The Asphyxiation Chord
by sulfur-addict
Summary: The London Strangler began to play in L's backyard more than 11 years ago and disappeared systematically to prevent capture. Now he's after the one person L cares about most. Can L stop him and will Light help after all this time? Read & Review!
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see but I am back and hopefully for good. I am sorry I disappeared and the reason is written in my updated profile.

This is my first fanfiction in a long while and this is my first DeathNote fiction. I've been letting my muse run and it keeps coming back to this idea so I hope you enjoy plotful stories with many details. This is the prologue so not much is going to be introduced other than setting and situation. Dramatic future timeline is neccessary for the next chapter. Also, this Post-Kira and I apologize for an ooc L if it occurs. I've never written for him so please forgive me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters excluding my own that are neccessary for the plot of this fiction to continue.

* * *

There had been no previous warning, no specific MO which would and could indicate the next victim to fall at the hands of the London Strangler. All deceased attributed to the serial killer varied in gender, height, hair color and ethnic background. The only thing which stayed the same was location and it was, of course as the name suggests, London, England. And there was the fact that all deaths seemed to have some specific difference besides the strangulation.

All victims were strangled with a standard cable chord with Alcryn instillation which is a common melt-processable rubber. Unlike vulcanized rubber, Alcryn processes with the ease of a plastic for tremendous cost savings. It requires no curing, pre-drying, or other time-consuming steps prior to processing, and it processes on standard plastics machinery. Therefore, it is inexpensive and not especially hard to find. No way to trace to specific buyers and no specialist retailers.

The Strangler simply had no qualms about leaving the material behind and left with the victims. Yet, instead of the material being strewn across the floor or left around the neck of the body, it was rolled and placed carefully in the hand which was then enclosed around it.

The color of the chords varied as well but that was neither here nor there and yet, it was significant somehow. I was sure of it and the reason for this was due to the fact that, as haphazard and quickly able to be discarded the information was, I was able to see the unique pattern that all chords left with the victims was intended to match the color of their eyes. And this also varied by the intensity of the eye color. Could this be how he's choosing the victims? But how do you determine whose eyes he would favor?

Digging through the mess on the coffee table in front of me, the absurdity of the situations was beginning to point to the fact that he was choosing whomsoever for their eye-color. If that was all we had to go on then, well, for lack of better vernacular, the people in my own back yard were royally screwed. I did take comfort, if that is the appropriate term at this moment, that all victims ranged from their mid-thirties to early-forties. That gave me _something _to work with.

Finally procuring my neglected confection which had been half obscured by the paperwork and evidence of my earlier misgivings, I sat back on the leather-high back which I'd been in since early the previous morning. It was now 3am and in the span of a few hours the sounds of Whammy House would come alive. It would most likely do me well to relax a moment as my head was spinning with all the new information of the investigation.

I had been finished with my cake slice for some time and had managed to even calm my thoughts, file and categorize all the evidence and information of the case reports when a small cooing noise alerted me. I immediately looked to the clock and noticed that it was nearly 6 in the morning, not unusual for him to be up at this hour. In a moment I knew that a soft patter of small feet would make its trail to me and that within in moments I would have an armful of a small prodigy. Despite the fact I still didn't like the touch of people in general, it was alright in this situation.

Like clockwork all the aforementioned came to pass. It started with a soft tug on my white, three-quarter sleeve, and then a small yawn. I glanced out the corner of my eye, making sure he had seen that today, I would be a bit stubborn. A smirk made its way to my face as the irritation was evident on the small face. Another tug, harder this time, and a glare to accompany it.

"Yes?" I said aloud, hoping I sounded as though I was irritated by his presence.

He wasn't fooled, oh no, this six year old knew I was wrapped around his finger. And he let me know it too as his own mouth curved into a smirk of its own. Looking at him I tried to glare but the little delinquent somehow found a foothold by tugging a large lock of my own black hair, using my unbalance at the surprise to his advantage; arms were instantly around my neck and locked.

Snorting at the audacity of the little one, I finally gave in and pulled him completely into my lap. Never in my life had I ever known such a loving child. Large, dark green eyes stared back at me with an amused and victorious air. "Happy now?" A small nod had started but then briefly stopped and a more thoughtful expression appeared. Finally those green eyes looked back at me and then at the empty plate on the coffee table.

"Oh no. No sweets in the morning, if you're hungry you can eat when all the children go down to Bossard Hall at seven." A small huff and, first furrowed, then one raised black eyebrow was facing me as if to say…_Then what are you doing eating them at this hour? _

A rapping on the door disrupted my musings as the door opened to reveal Whammy. He looked considerably older these days but despite the more recent thinning of his once thick white hair, he maintained a regality that contradicted these signs of aging.

He glanced at me as my legs were crossed instead of being tucked beneath me as always and to the obvious factor for this. He smiled kindly and motioned for the child to come with.

"Come now," said the heavy accent, his was the Queen's English, "Let us allow to him finish his work."

Reluctantly the child unwound himself and plopped softly to the floor. Walking towards Whammy I took a moment, like so many before, to appraise the child who was, as guessed, mine. His hair was thickly black and just a bit longer than what mine used to be at that age. The body was smaller than most at his age but he was more than half as tough as children older. He pattered across the floor in his light colored jams and took the old hand. One last look at me with the eyes which were not like my own and he was out the door to get ready for breakfast and the new day.

Sighing, I tried to immerse myself back into my work but I was already distracted thinking about my son. He was not like me in the sense he did not share my own imperfections with social awkwardness. He was very social, enjoyed the attention of others and, indeed, was well liked by the rest of the orphanage. Incredibly intelligent too.

That made me especially proud. He was a problem solver and at an even younger age he was able to go toe-toe with my ex-successor, Near, in a game of patterns. As a result of his own astonishment, Near placed a small puzzle ring into my sons hand as a prize. Though it is too large for him to wear at the moment, he does have it on a small chain around his smaller neck.

A dark green chord wrapped around that very pale neck popped its ugly self into my brain and I had to shake off the shiver it gave me. I _had _to get this case solved. Something foreboding crept into the edges of my consciousness and refused to be subdued until I stood up and walked out the door to check on Whammy and the child dubbed J.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the short prologue. They are always short but my chapters are fairly long. Please R&R constructively with questions or even suggestions. I enjoy help with grammer and words I may not have noticed.

Don't worry, his son is not going to dominate the story as I have no intention of allowing an OC to be the main character. You'll see why he exists soon enough.


	2. Chapter 1: Beginnings

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters, original plots, and artwork.

* * *

Chapter 1: Eleven Years Later

_

* * *

_

"I see. Yes, alright…was there anything else in the file? _Sigh _Very well, thanks for your time." L closed the phone and placed it on the counter, well placed would be stretching the truth a little as it nearly fell off the edge after being harshly tossed. The polite manner in which he spoke did nothing to show exactly how flustered he truly was.

It was truly beyond him as to how any crime could be solved by Scotland Yard when all they could pull together as evidence was actually lack-thereof.

_I have solved many more difficult cases and yet this one escapes even London's finest. Maybe it would be astute to call the strangler over to tea and just inquire of him._

L shifted in his seat slightly as the phone buzzed softly on the counter during his mental rambling. His only acknowledgment of irony a barely visible nod of the head as he picked up the device and placed it to his ear.

"Yes."

"Are you near your computer?" Mello's voice questioned.

"Yes."

"Good. Look, there's been another body discovered on Delancey Street. I've sent you the photos that I was able to lift from one of the officers on scene."

Immediately L was at his computer typing mechanically and pulling up the pictures. The first pictures were of the place where the victim was discovered. Behind Camden's Coffee Shop in a small alcove, there was evidence of some sort of struggle. Trash receptacles had be knocked askew and all manner of discarded crates were perched precariously to suggest a feebly attempt at hiding the gruesome truth.

The 0045jpeg was the starting line reserved for the actual homicide victim. The victim was a woman, blonde with a pixie-like hairstyle and a form fitting red dress. The dress was hitched up just above the knee with legs akimbo. No shoes, L raised a nearly translucent eyebrow at that piece of information.

Clicking through the other photos and digesting the evidence religiously through onyx eyes, he looked for the slightest difference in…anything.

"Thanks Mello, for a second I thought there was a reason for you to be there lifting photos that would embody a catalyst for a break in the case, but now I see it is futile, I'm glad to know that hope was not a necessary emotion at this time." L's sarcasm was virtually masked by the electronic voice scrambler as he voiced his disappointment.

Mello being Mello, however, caught it.

"Now wait old man before you bitch. There _is_ something else and when you've decided to get over yourself and locate it, call me, or better yet get that brat to do it. He seems to be very perceptive," a loud snap over the phone registered to L as the breaking of chocolate, "hell knows he's got more observation skills than the rest of us."

The detective closed his phone and considered the Blondes' words. Again he ran through the photos once, twice, three times and more. His eyes examined everything and anything. The only thing he thought strange was the missing shoes.

He would call the Yard again to see if they had taken the shoes into evidence without photographing them before hand. It was a possibility, no one was perfect, yet L couldn't shake the thought that the chance of making such a mistake was very slim. Indeed, only a glaring five percent chance of that happening stood out in his mind.

He stood, his hips popping as he did so with only a faint grimace to show displeasure. Dark hair tapered around his face in thick layers. He studied his image in the mirror atop the mahogany dresser. For once he could admit to himself that he looked a trifle tired. His shoulders were hunkered, weighed down by the many sleepless nights. His dark eyes seemed that much darker along with the bags beneath them in an unconscious attempt to resemble a raccoon, bemused he consider the lack of fuzzy ears and a striped fluffed tail.

Eyes roaming down his body and back up to his face, L huffed and ran a dainty hand through the obscure mass of hair with a sigh. It wasn't too long ago, it seemed, he was as lively and energetic as any young man. Now, however, his age was likely to be deduced without any remorse by the children who lived at Whammy's.

Turning a little to the side he glanced and stood straight for a profile view. There was attractiveness in the way he stood now, a slight air of regality. Up to his full height, one could see the ripple of soft muscle beneath his simple garments of baggy faded blue-jeans and trade-mark white, 3 quarter-sleeve. Yet he couldn't fool even himself with what lay in his eyes. No, L sighed once more, he was no longer a young man.

_No one else has to know that though. _L smirked. If anything he was a master at hiding the true nature of things.

Once more he turned to the computer and checked the time on the monitor. He still had enough time to gobble down some confection before J came back from his little excursion in North America.

L sat at the same coffee table where all this had began. A passerby might have thought his now slouched posture was his normal appearance, but the trained eye would notice how it was not his usual slouch. It was heavier, more tired and his body was leaned slightly back into the leather high-back. A vacant look filled the impossibly dark orbs of the famous detective.

It had started again.

The strangulations with the common chord were being reported again.

On and off, on and off the killings came in short spurts and it was maddening. L tilted his head in a familiar fashion. All the evidence was now ingrained in his memory, burned into his thoughts, if it wasn't for some break in the monotony, he would eat, briefly sleep, and breathe the London Strangler.

However, recently, the killings had become ritualistic, more violent and now, the most maddening, was the fact DNA evidence had been produced. Yes, the serial killer had also become an excreter.

Ejaculatory fluids had been found at the last three crime scenes. No hit on the DNA owner's identity. Hell, L snorted, they had finger prints and couldn't find a thing.

Tilting his head to look out the window and into the bleak streets some yards away, L believed the rain completely mimicked his own thought pattern.

What is it you want? Do you even want anything or do you just kill for the crap joy of it?

There was an idea he'd been toying with for some time but every time it came to the forefront of his mind, he would cast it away instantly. Yet Yagami Light's young face kept flickering in his mind. That alone was a crushing blow to L's own ego.

The thought that he actually might need more help with this case caused him to melt into the chair altogether. Legs splayed out infront of him, right arm cast over the side and his left hand was resting on the studded arm of the chair, busy propping up his chin as his thin fingers played with his lips in thought.

He looked no different than he had 11 years ago excluding that for once, his skin did seem to be quite a bit darker and a few strands of grey made themselves unobtrusively evident, but not unattractively so. And he sported a larger collection of shirts that were not just white alone. Compliments of the brat he knew he couldn't live without.

L allowed himself a moment to think back to his own legendary case. How back then during the Kira case, he would have never considered the possibilities of father-hood and yet now, he could think of nothing else. Where he once enjoyed the complete sanctity of silence for hours alone, he now would seek the company of others. A select few but more than his usual inner circle which included just he and Whammy.

That was another thing as well. Quillish Whammy, the man who had been beside L for years, was now up stairs in a large plush bed with an unfortunate necessity, his own personal nurse. He'd suffered a myocardial infarction, the doctor had said, and it was enough to ground the lively old man. But, believe it or not when L had went in to see him, though Whammy had looked just as every bit ill as the doctor indicated, he had a familiar spark in his eyes.

"You know, I've lived a rather full life. I've been able to go with you for every case that demanded your attention. However," the raspy but warm voice said, "I couldn't help but get a little surprised at this situation."

"And why would that be Quillish?" L asked as he stood near the foot of the hospital bed.

"That even though I was not on a case anywhere with you, Kira only decided to go after me now when I was about to enjoy the most succulent lambs' leg dish."

The deadpan look of the detective gave Whammy all the incentive he needed to laugh at the younger man which, though somewhat weak, was infectious enough to get a rare but genuine smile from said detective.

Sighing L kept his eyes out the window. The very thought of his caretaker being too ill to do what he would usually enjoy was rather depressing. It was then that L noticed a reflection in the window. Without giving any indication of noticing he looked at the figure standing in the doorway somewhere behind him.

The figure closed the door and kept their hands behind their back as they walked further in the room. He was so silent, L thought, but he knew that was intentional. Apparently J thought he might be too busy to be disturbed. He watched as the figure began to place something on the edge of the coffee table. A small bag that was neatly creased and handles tied in some small twine.

"What's that?" L asked softly causing J to look up startled.

L relished the fact that J was not at all really surprised he had spoken. There was only one other person that he could think of who could act that well and he was half the world away.

The smirk on his son's face was enough to confirm this and that he knew L wasn't fooled.

"I brought you a treat from the States. But if you're going sit there and be all glum, I'll take them back up stairs." J chortled when L whipped around to examine the small bag.

Taking the bag he motioned for the boy to sit. As he did, the bag opened to fill the whole room with the smell of coffee cakes. L happily tucked into the small confections only to speak between bites.

"How was your trip?"

"Well, enough. Maine is rather cold this time of year for obvious reasons." J replied smoothly.

L nodded. "When did you get back?" Another coffee cake was gone.

"About two hours ago and that was before I was able to walk into the building. The traffic is terrible due to the rain. I counted at least five collisions on my way home. I almost feared I'd be one of them with the way Matt drives. I walked in the door about half an hour ago."

Leaning forward to study the material on the coffee table in front of L, J sighed.

"Started killing again, eh?"

The detective scrapped his last coffee cake, curled his legs beneath him and studied the paperwork on the table as well.

* * *

A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed the start of this story. I've never written for Death Note and therefore, it is somewhat difficult for me to capture the complete personalities of the canon parties without a little tweaking. I hope it's not too obvious. This story will have a bit of a slow start which is something I'm a bit paranoid about. Perhaps only for chapters 1 and 2.

I love reviews and please let me know whether you love it or hate it...constructively and tell me why. One of the main reasons I am writing again is to improve the skills I once had and polsih my own imagination.

If anyone has any suggestions for stories or anything they would like to see in this, please let me know.

Thanks, Read and Review.


	3. Chapter 2: Bad Move

Chapter 2: Bad Move

* * *

Truth be told L could not believe his eyes. The audacity that was presented him in this situation was far from believable and yet…it could be fathomed, on a sci-fi scale in a cheesy mystery novella way.

He knew that the tenth victim was unusual. Thatcher, Patricia, the pixie blonde woman in the red dress with no shoes was given the task of pointing L in an absurd direction. The direction…himself.

There had been an information leak on a grand scale that provided the London Strangler with knowledge of _who _was working his case and as a result, the bastard called the famous detective on it.

At precisely 2 a.m. there was a call to the police from a pay phone. The voice recorded was obscured and slightly muffled; however, the initial reason for the call came loud and clear to the dispatcher on the other side.

When officers in the area responded and arrived on location some fleeting moments later at 2:15, they discovered exactly what was to be waiting for them.

At 2:45 a.m. a call was placed by the chief of police to a number only he was privileged enough to have knowledge of. And it was on the third ring that an electronically scrambled voice answered.

"L. Is this detective L? This is Chief Tomlin. We have something you need to see," The chiefs' brusque voice came across the open line, unknowingly perking the delicate ears on the receiving end. "The un sub phoned this morning from a location north of Delancey. One of the missing shoes from the Thatcher woman was present when officers arrived on scene."

_Knew it! _Thought L as he remembered the oddity of the missing articles. Mello definitely had alluded to the shoes in the conversation over the phone.

"_Is the shoe present at the station?"_

"Yes. It has already been tagged; however, you should analyze them yourself."

"_I intend to do so Chief Tomlin."_Though L's scrambled reply was obviously sarcastic, even the officer couldn't bring himself to roll his eyes. He had worked with L several times before and now was not the time for him to be unfocused. In one word, the chief hoped to convey the seriousness of the situation.

Breathing the revered letter into the mouthpiece carried the weight of the find across the line and L grimaced.

"_I understand. As soon as you are able to, send the pictures to the previous email and the report of the officers who attended the call. Please advise your crime unit to scrutinize the location where the shoe was found. I expect results and for your officers to be on their toes."_

"Understood." A soft click alerted L that his orders were being followed.

Hours later and a dozen phone calls made by varying parties, the evidence was carefully organized into password secured files on the computer of a dark-haired sugar addict.

He glared at the shoe. The crimson crocodile leather stiletto was an expensive and exquisite instrument that annoyed the world famous detective if for no other reason than the fact someone had carefully burned his moniker into the sole of the soft fabric.

No prints were found at the phone booth. L's glare penetrated the picture further during his thought process. The one place that should be full of finger prints and hair and all manner of forensic evidence, had been wiped down and cleaned handsomely.

On top of this, riding the brittle nerves of the detective, was the information leak. A handful of the people involved on the case knew he was taking an interest in the murders and everyone of them was someone L had worked with on previous cases he'd conducted while in London. Another words, these were men who had proven themselves worthy of any trust L allowed; men whom he had allowed to meet Whammy in person. An information leak on this scale very much bothered the detective.

Sifting through the work on his screen and printing out some of the files to add to his stack of mayhem cluttered in a way only L knew how to navigate through, the detective pinched the corners of the liquid white papers to glance at the contents until he came up on the one he was looking for.

Black eyes roamed the page. The forensic analysis was iffy. It was obvious his name was burned into the shoes but the how was escaping them since the _L_ had also shown signs of tear.

_A burn but a tear?_

The Strangler never ceased to make him raise translucent brows. Scratching and shaking his head he pinched another piece of paper and brought it in front of his face, totally obscuring his visage. His hair, however, poked defiantly in every direction from behind the startling contrast.

The picture on the page was a magnification of the L on the shoe. He could see the tearing that was reported in the file. It was slight and barely noticeable but it was there.

A thought popped into his mind. Perhaps it was indeed both a burn and a tear. Melted plastic could do that if…_no, no. Not plastic. Something more precise, a much thicker concentration that's very texture would not drip down the slope of the shoe. _

Another glance at the enlarged image allowed L to see slight melting close to the frayed material.

It was remarkable how the soft sole of the shoe resembled human skin.

"…"

Somewhere tickling the back of his brain was sending off bells. Skin…looks like skin, like blistered skin that has touched something hot. Wax…plastic…adhesive…! _Glue! Hot glue!_

L scooted back to his computer and pulled up a page he had not printed out.

_The slight adhesive located in the symbol is presumed to be part of the original sealant attaching the sole to the main body of the shoe._

A low hum vibrated from the detectives vocal chords throughout his chest. He was certain that the adhesive was from the hot glue. Recalling once from his early childhood memories, a nanny he had long forgotten because of her rude behavior, there was a point where she had been using the hot liquid to mend a small figurine.

The glue had touched her fingers and she flinched badly and in her haste to stop the burn she quickly pulled off the rapidly hardening substance, tearing pieces of her dark epidermis in the process.

L had been fascinated when that happened. To think a liquid could burn and tear off skin.

Not entirely so, but it was similar to the mark on the shoe.

* * *

The Chief's mustache bristled repugnantly at the phone. He had been back and forth all day and he was tired. The forensic team reaffirmed L's assumption of the glue. A glue gun was mostly likely used.

But that wasn't why the chief looked entirely frazzled or why his grey mustache seemed to be trying to escape. It was the audacity and the frighteningly obvious intent the blasted shoe had meant to get across.

The man on the phone knew it too and Tomlin waited with bated breath as he hoped to not have his next question answered truthfully.

"So what happens now L?"

"_We decide whether or not we should acknowledge the killer." _

A large sigh was evident on the other side of the phone. Duress, plain and simple. The seasoned detectives connected by the fibrotic cables understood the gravity of what was implied.

If L decided to have the police not acknowledge his connection to the case and remained silent, the killer could take that as a sign the detective really wasn't working it and go back to his normal routine, or… he will take the silence from L as an incentive to become more violent and try harder to get his attention.

Either way people were going to die and the severity of their demise could rest with L's choice. He could either ignore the stranglers' assumption or treat the leak as positively known by the strangler and concede the fact.

Unbeknownst to Chief Tomlin, L had faced a similar situation on the Kira Case. When Kira had been made aware of the detectives involvement and he had brought forth the fact the killings had started in Japan…Kira then focused on criminals in that region as if to say… "And?"

If L acknowledged the strangler, would he also say, "and?" to his presence or would the killings become more violent as a penalty for L's silence.

As the receiver heated against the pale flesh of his ear, L looked towards the door in hopes for someone else to come in and convince him of what call to make.

No one came and his shoulders shrugged.

"_Chief Tomlin, please disregard the incident and do not allow knowledge of this incident to be reported to the media. Silence all officers and the on-call dispatcher."_

"…Understood."

* * *

Bad move. It was a bad move.

Weeks after leaving the shoe at the phone booth there had been no open move like he'd expected of the great detective.

Doesn't matter. He'd find a way to catch his attention and the fact the prick was being silent was a damn shame…mostly for the brown-brown eyed woman across the street. Obviously waiting for the sorry ass that stood her up but, there she was, elegant and proud as any lady who was indeed lonely.

Most likely met the inbred bastard on one of those online mash-up jobs.

She had bad taste in hairstyles though. They always do.

No one's hair ever truly fit them perfectly. The hair was important, he'd discovered. It framed the eyes and he bloody hated it when those lipsticked girls would outrageously style and dye their hair. Blondes were never meant to have pitch black or dark brown hair. Brunettes sure as hell did not need the red or bleached shit on their heads.

Same rules applied to men, he thought, as he made his way across the street towards the restaurant. It was simple. The way an older man would do his best to comb over the pathetic strands to cover areas where time had robbed him of the precious strands. Sometimes they would get those ridiculous toupees which looked like scraped road kill looking for a barren wasteland to finally rest their weary existences.

He strolled casually when the female looked at him with the astonishing eyes. He gave the friendliest of smiles and she warmed instantly, returning the gesture. Yes, she was beautiful but not enough.

He gave her an appreciative once-over and she blushed as he walked on by. Soon enough she would tire of standing there like a night time two-bit piece and make her way back to the parking lot behind the restaurant. He would wait. Besides, he had to make this beauty perfect for the presentation L was soon going to witness.

_Oh L, _he thought, _your silence has only made this more fun._

_

* * *

_

Impossibly green eyes glared at the obsidian orbs across the room. The obsidian orbs stared right back.

The little contest had been going on for some time. One was purely innocent and the other entirely vicious.

The reason for the staring match was due to an unexpected find in J's own room. There L stood, as innocent and pure as an angel, looking as though all intentions were holy and just as he munched on _J's _chocolate cache.

It was his phenomenal achievement which he hung cheerfully over Uncle Mels head. As a matter of fact, the reason he was able to call Mello by the title of Uncle Mels was his reward for besting him in the cocoa department.

His green eyes narrowed further and L visibly flinched. It was well known that not even the Choco-loving blonde, Russian mafia gun wielding maniac that Mello was, would _touch_ J's stash.

He revered it.

Yet here L was with his hand caught in the cookie jar, or snare rather. A rather elaborate snare that was rigged in such a manner as to alert J via text that someone was in his room in his sweet deposits.

It was at that time when Quillish felt well enough to walk that he had wondered the hall and noticed the stand-off. Unnoticed by both detectives as he stood in the door way, he watched in amusement as the older of the two didn't move a centimeter. Most likely he feared that if he did so and moved he would be the only one able to solve the mystery of his own demise. J, indeed, reaffirmed this theory.

"You do realize that if you disappear, the only people capable of finding you and your killer are both standing in this room." J's smooth, masculine bell-like voice announced.

"You would have to commit two murders and I thought you were rather fond of Whammy." L spoke lowly in a manner that suggested he was grasping for straws.

Oh. So they did know he was there.

In the most brilliant smile turned on Quillish, the seventeen year old looked beneath innocent eyelashes and asked, "Do I?"

At this, the older man whistled a happy tune from the confines of his mustache and resumed his wondering around the floor.

"Damn."

J returned an amused glare back at the frumpled looking man before him. L released his dainty wrist from the snare wire and threw the rest of the candy wrappers towards his son.

He stood up to his full height with a series of cracks and stared down the young boy in front of him.

"Am I correct in assuming that there are only two ways I will be able to leave this room?"

J tilted his head to the side in mock thought, his thick locks of dark hair tied loosely in a band and strands of bangs just tickling the side of his face, he nodded.

"Yes, in a body bag or by fighting your way out. Either way, it will be your money paying for all damages caused by this altercation."

L nodded and lowered his body close the ground and smiled a genuine smile. Across the room, so did J.

Today's battle royale: Capoeira vs. Muay Thai.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so, thanks to my reviewers for dropping me a line.

xallfalldownx...Thanks so much for the review. It cheered me. You were my first review.

...Epic thanks for that rather long review. I hope this chapter has shown my attempts at bettering myself.

To all those who watch this story, reviews are like Mello's chocolate to me. Dark, delicious and very much a death sentence if found with them. Hah! Totally worth it though. Critique is appreciated and so are ideas. If there are things you want to see or if you just want to yell at me for being an idiot please do.

Read & Review!


	4. Chapter 3: Consequences

Chapter 3: Consequence

* * *

It couldn't be helped. At first he had just been so shocked by the prospect of this occurrence that he couldn't stifle the small cackle from escaping. The glare he received as a result from the little slip sent the blond over the edge.

Leather on leather shifted and chains made muffled clinks as Mello brought a hand donning a mesh fingerless glove to his face in order to poorly obscure his ill attempts of concealing the cacophony resonating from his throat and out his mouth.

His bright eyes took in the cool expression of rock hard onyx across from him. No doubt, if L was willing to shift position to throttle him, he would have but considering the visible facts, the detective was most likely way too sore to shift.

The man was in his usual chair in front of the coffee table next to the window overlooking the grounds. His knees were, as was usual, drawn completely up to his chest with feet and toes curled slightly over the dark creme textures edge.

More uncommon, however; was the fact that L's pallid arms were draped and locked together atop his knees obscuring the lower portion of his face. His doomed hair looking more forlorn than usual was swept forward in an attempt to hide the most marvelous, recent addition to the pale face.

This was the reason Mello laughed and why, though more controlled now, he giggled.

Anyone who would dare to steal from J's chocolate stash and leave unscathed had some serious brass. L... had a fair amount of brass. And a hideous, swollen black eye to prove it.

Mello was also willing to bet his own candy bars that the reason L had obscured half his face was because there was a beautiful split lip under there.

"You got yours handed to you." Mello said trying for the polite route.

Obsidian narrowed further and the Russian was certain he heard a huffed obscenity uttered toward him.

Relaxing in the chair and satisfied that the man wouldn't get up to toss him out, Mello looked around the room of the man he adored his entire life.

The room was essentially a part of the attic that was off limits when he was younger. It stored the holiday decorum, paperwork and extra boarding supplies for the inhabitants, as well as a random detective or two.

The room was tasteful. Creme colored walls and dark mahogany furniture with matching leather upholstery. A four poster bed of the same wood and just as elaborate sat invitingly near the corner facing another window which was partially blue and white stained glass. On the opposite side of the room where he and L sat facing each other was a computer desk and assorted cabinets meant for filing. Interesting baubles, maps, secret documents and parcels unopened were stacked idiosyncratically about.

Mello wondered briefly what was in those packages if purely because he liked to unwrap things.

Looking at the detective again he sighed. The man was in no mood to speak and that did not bode well for what the blond had to tell him. Another victim with another gruesome message. Since Whammy had taken to being bed ridden, Mello now worked as the mysterious Watari and had personally retrieved the evidence just hours ago from Chief Tomlin.

Hearing his phone beep, the blonde dug out the device and read the ID.

"Здравствуйте." _Hello._

L barely turned a glance. It wasn't uncommon for Mello to speak Russian.

"Да. Он сердит." _Yes. He's annoyed._

At this L looked fully at Mello. What's annoyed? The blond seemed thoughtful and then, spoke something the man couldn't quite catch.

"Если Вы думаете, что это будет работать. Пожалуйста пробуйте." _If you think, that it will work. Please try. _

Snapping his phone closed. Mello eyed the detective coolly. That alone made L wary. When the leather wearing heir gave a slightly calculating gaze it could only mean trouble. Which told the detective he really wished to have caught that last bit of conversation.

Russian was not his strongest language and was a pain to pronounce. He usually only dealt with the legal terminology and usually enlisted the assistence of Mello or J when he needed to have an extended conversation with the authorities.

He wouldn't say it at the moment but he was quite proud of that fact where J was concerned. That boy was fluent in several languages more so than he was, and the three greatest detectives in the world knew quite a few very well.

With the exception of a few such as Russian for which J could be taken as a native speaker-_Oh!_

If it weren't for the soreness in his muscles L would be mopping the floor with the blond who now sat smugly as he deduced the pieced together info from the phone call. Mello had purposely spoke quickly knowing that L wouldn't understand.

The door opened with a resounding click and soft close as feather light footsteps graced the carpet and stopped just mere inches from where L sat brooding. He knew who it was and he was more than willing to let the brat stand there.

He needed to retain his anger. He needed to keep reminding himself of the ugly black eye and split lip that he had. The latter wasn't too hard considering that their little bout had been a bit more rough than expected.

Nope, L would be stubborn and stay mad forever.

A longing look in Mello's eye towards J had the older man wanting to turn around. The younger man was rarely enthralled with anything. From behind him, he heard more Russian spoken. It sounded like a soft jumble of sweet notes that summoned his second successor from the chair.

Listening, he heard the sharp contrast of sweet notes next to harsh vocals and soon the door was open and closed again.

The door closing kicked up a wickedly delicious aroma in the room and L knew he would be losing this war to stay stubborn.

Not because of the sweet smell alone but because of what the aromatic override to his senses truly meant.

He would have to be a good father, much to his childish chagrin, and face his only weakness in the eye.

Holding in the sigh he felt coming to his lips he finally acknowledged the boy behind him whom was no doubt wearing a hole in the floor where he stood. J had always been a very loving child and it made it difficult for his father to stay mad at him, even when there was nothing to truly be angry about. So they got into a scuffle that was more rough than intended over a cache of chocolate. He'd knew the prodigy was protective of it just as much as he was over his own confections.

As firmly as he could manage, L told the other to come closer. As he did, the older decided to stop hiding his face and adopt a menacing look as the other stepped in front of him just a few steps away.

As predicted, all his anger and annoyance vanished at the sight of J. He marveled at the scene. His son was somewhat just in kicking him out of the room last night after what he had done. Yet, here was J, looking as though he'd committed murder.

If L was honest with himself, and he had to be, though his outward face stared blankly onward, it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life.

There stood the seventeen year old with his black tresses down for once, choppy and thickly haphazard in framing his ivory face. He was built like his father, well, if said father stood up straight and was a few inches shorter. Dark green eyes were downcast and refused to meet the others gaze, if he had he would have noted the amusement glinting in them.

In his equally porcelain hands was a silver tea tray from which the pleasant scent wafted.

L could pick that scent up anywhere simply because no one in the House made the source but J and he did it rarely enough to make it a treat. No wonder Mello was looking longingly towards J. Those treats meant one thing. He was sorry.

"Dad I...I know I got carried away but I hadn't supposed you'd be the one to, um...uh."

"Be the one breaking and entering." L finished.

J's cheeks flushed at the obvious amusement in the voice and looked up.

"So, I'm forgiven?" Green eyes pierced.

"When we finish what you have there." L motioned toward the tea tray which J sat down on the coffee table happily now that he knew he was forgiven. He never liked it when his father was angry with him. Yet, as his grandfather figure once pointed out, his dad was not one who usually cared about children, or people for that matter, outside his case files unless they were involved. In truth, the boy could see that after being recluse and antisocial for majority of L's life could not simply be fixed with _his _seventeen years of existence.

Glancing at the man, J smirked almost imperceptibly at the notion that, according to Quillish, it was only _his _presence that L would tolerate for the...most part.

Before L could help himself to the tea tray, a large knocking on the door sounded before Mello plowed through dragging an unhappy hacker with him.

"Not gonna apologize and you can't make me! I'm taking some of those cookies." Stated the blonde bombshell as he threw Matt into a chair opposite the one he practically jumped in.

It was obvious as to why Mello, especially Mello, liked those things. They were no bake cookies consisting of oats, peanut butter, a hint of vanilla, unnerving amounts of sugar and copious amounts of cocoa. The were warm and very moist, practically melt in the mouth works of art.

Even the trigger happy hack helped himself and for a moment everyone was happily munching away. L, however; noticed only one was not joining in on the delectable treats.

Glancing up L looked up troubled by the fact the emerald eyes in the room were mournfully looking at the happiness on everyone else's face as they ate one of his most famous confections.

"J?" L questioned causing the other two to look up and take notice as well.

The boy looked up regretfully at his father indicating the food and tea.

"You guys enjoy. I made them for you after all." Then the boy smiled a smile every bit as sweet as the cookies and L's heart almost leaped out of his throat. Of course he wasn't able to eat sweets. Or anything solid for a small while.

As was natural for him, J tried laughing off the situation and Mello joined him. Matt chuckled from his seat but personally, L was appalled. The child infront of him, _his _child was missing one of his top central and partially missing the top lateral incisors which should be sitting together in his mouth.

Time to call a dentist for a boy who chugged sweets and never had a cavity a day in his life.

* * *

Some hours later the seemingly warm atmosphere chilled after J had left and Mello had deemed it appropriate to finally tell the dark haired detective about the newest of victims.

Matt watched unaffected by the glare Mello was being sent at keeping such important information from the man standing hunched near the window. The obnoxious heir on the receiving end did not seem affected either.

By now it was easy to guess what reaction they would get from this lean individual who was now cast in the light of the flames that had been kindled in the ornate fireplace some hours ago.

Looking past L, Matt noticed once again that rain was starting to fall. He and Mels would be staying here tonight since taking his prized auto on the road during a storm would be a suicide mission that he was not willing to risk.

Sighing, he mourned the position L had placed him in about five years ago. The man had become so annoyed by Matt's incessant clicking of control buttons that he'd forbidden him to ever bring another portable game into his presence again.

But, this was important so he guessed he would listen for once.

"Whitechapel Road? THE Whitechapel Road?" L asked in a monotone dripping with slight disbelief.

"Yes. Near the art gallery. Brown wire, an unusually deep shade was found coiled in her hand. The perp called it in again. This time he or she used a disposable cell phone." Mello said while pealing off his mesh gloves and laying them on the table.

"Around what time?" L turned back to the window.

"Early morning. Like _your_ freakishly early morning hours."

Mello stopped speaking and L turned to look at him. The look in his eyes let on there was something he didn't want to say but, no doubt, it needed to be said.

A translucent brow lifted in question in indication for him to continue.

"L,' he began and leaned forward to look at his idol through his nearly straight cut bangs,' he knows for fact that you are working this case. Whoever they are, that bad feeling you told me about the other day for staying silent, your gut was telling you the truth."

L hissed and sucked his tender lip into his mouth after a silent curse.

Matt continued for his friend. "We said she was found with a deep brown chord coiled in her hands but it was only after we looked at her records that we learned that it was her true eye color."

L's jeans rustled roughly as he whipped around and moved to stand in front of the red head. "Her eyes were missing?"

The man nodded as he lit a cig and blew the smoke away from the slouching figure.

"Yeah. But not just that. Remember that there was a risk of increased violence with this criminal. A finger on the opposite hand was also missing and your symbol was burned nicely into her forehead."

_How quaint. _Thought L, _The strangler not only kills but mutilates a woman and dumps her in the Whitechapel district. There is a less than two percent chance that wasn't intended. A killer who has formed a macabre sense of humor._

"Don't suppose he decided to tell us the "Juwes are the ones who will be blamed for nothing.'" L said in a huff as his sat in his chair again and drew his knees up to his chest and rested his hands on the arms of the upholstery.

"Not exactly." Mello said almost sadly.

* * *

After going through the evidence hour after hour without a break, Mello excused himself from the room to stretch his legs.

How that man could go without sleep for long astounded him.

With a glance at his watch the blond sighed and stretched his back and arms. They had been going for over twelve hours with this info, it was now 8am. Sighing again he crossed his arms behind his head and began to walk.

This was what he had dreamed of for years. Following in the footsteps of his mentor and becoming one of the most feared and bad ass detectives in the world. He had many things at his finger tips that others didn't. He had a number one education most people would spend their entire life savings for. And he did pay attention despite what those idiots who taught his classes said. It was just so boring since he learned things so quickly, so what if he set Miss. Belkins' skirt on fire with Matt's lighter. He'd only did it once... to her anyway.

Which this led him to his other greatest facet, his mind. He was absolutely brilliant and it wasn't that he was bragging, it was a fact. He wouldn't have been named successor if it weren't so. Of course now, he thought a bit down as he passed an oak door with a glance, as he was more than glad to help and finally use these qualities, it was a shame that he was replacing an old pro when it came to helping L.

As Watari, Mello could wave around that precious letter at any police organization around the world and be attended to without question. Watari was as good as any search warrant. One sight of Mels in the trade mark trench and hat would permit him to access any info he wanted.

Smirking to himself the blond man thought of his Albino nemesis who didn't even stand a chance with his newly appointed position as Watari. Though, his lips pulled into a pout, Near probably didn't even care. What good was this news if he couldn't rub it in someones face...Near's especially.

Stopping at a specific door. Mello could hear the faint sound of music through the wood, which was saying something since these doors were thought to prevent any noise from traveling outside into the halls.

The brat had his music cranked full blast. Smiling when he figured out that it was this kind of atmosphere he needed at the moment, the blond pulled out his phone and sent a text. There was no way the boy would hear if he knocked and he would at least have his cell on vibrate.

Three seconds later and the door shifted to become slightly ajar. As soon as he was inside Mello's mood instantly brightened.

The Gin Blossoms blared from one of the randomly selected songs hooked into stereo via IPod as J sat at the table near a book case on the far side of the room. It was away from the window, unlike L's workstation, simply because his son was too easily distracted.

He sat with his knees tucked under him in an uncomfortable looking highback chair. And the mafia born heir nodded his direction as he began to explore the room.

It was a room that always fascinated him. It's inhabitant he was even more fascinated by, naturally because it was his mentors son was his first thought long ago. In truth it was a combination of things that made the boy hard to describe.

He was the son of the world's three greatest detectives and his mental acuity vividly shown this fact in sharp clarity. His mannerism somewhat resembled his fathers at times but most of that was only learned behavior. Such as the fact that he sat with his knees beneath him instead of hugged to his chest and he ate sweets in such a manner that alarmed even him.

Oh but it was so worth it since he also knew how to cook and create them.

Looking around the room some more, it was even more understanding why J might appeal to Mello's fascination factor, or rather his own macabre interest in the teens mind.

The room was once a place of study. Majority of the bookcases were removed except for one lining the entire wall near J and in an ajoining room whose door was at present shut. The colors of the room hosted pecan washed walls with blushing cherrywood furniture, heavy and very expensive.

The shelves, the bookcase, nightstands, chest of drawers and the table where the boy sat was covered in the most gruesome residue of photos and case files. Each photograph entailing the horrific ending of an individual and every angle of their filleted corpses hung the walls and danced deadly on the flat surfaces.

Mello held back a shiver as he glanced at one of a child hanging from a ceiling. That alone was disturbing enough had it not been made more so by the fact his intestines were spilled rotten from his swollen belly and trickled to the floor like an impromptu monstrous chandelier.

Below the picture was a scribbled set of notes indicating, much to the mans relief, the perpetrator of this crime had been caught and there was a court date set within the next few months.

From the direction of the table Mello's ears caught the bell-like voice speaking to him and realized, without his notice, the music had been turned down.

"What's wrong Uncle Mels?"

He looked back and caught the curious green eyes turned on him and waved a hand over the picture.

"Just curious why you have this up if the case was solved."

"He killed others and the judge is being a bastard and not inditing the man for the other three victims." The raven haired teen grimaced. He shrugged as the man turned towards him in incredulity. "The court date is my reminder to call the DA and have charges brought against the judge for ignoring factual evidence, the same evidences that allowed him to accept just that one murder there."

Mello gawked as J turned back to the documents in hand and continued.

"I've tried more than twice with nothing less than a sufficient amount of evidence to convince the judge of this case. The other judge in that district also refuses the case since it was not committed in her city of legal council and she has a thorough hate for me by now.

"No matter. Once my attempts have been made clear to the District Attorney and she sees that the initial judge had refused to hear the case on the premise of non-sufficient evidence which translates as 'I'm too lazy to do my freaking job,' she will present the facts on that day of court; wherein, she will drag him through the gutter in front of the entire witness and legal councilors available while the media, through an anonymous tip, will be attending to film all allegations and in so doing will discredit him forever."

* * *

It was with tremendous effort that Mello walked back to L's room. As he sat down and Matt took in his friends visible shock, he could finally understand why, not L but Near, suggested that boy had the potential to be one of the most dangerous forces known to Investigation and Law enforcement.

Mello had been taken aback and in a true show of curiosity had asked Near why he believed so.

_"Criminals of course will get away with nothing. This time, neither will the law."_

The soft droan of that voice reached shocked ears once more and deep blue locked on the hunched figure as he sat still reading the paperwork.

"L...after careful consideration, I believe you got off lightly and hope sincerely that you remind me to never piss off your son."

Without looking up the man nodded in understanding and began to gnaw on his thumb. He had been contemplating the vague message left behind by the murderer.

_The extra help of these two has indeed aided in more quick and solid conclusions but if the message is meant to convey an important meaning, neither of us have been able to catch it. Near would be very helpful right now but he's out of practice...Who would work?_

The message was thus, "There exists a black kingdom which the eyes of man avoid because its landscape fails signally to flatter them."

L slowly sucked on his swollen lip and inwardly winced. Looking up at his counterpart he asked, "What was J doing?"

"Huh,' asked Mello being pulled out of a daze. "Oh, I believe he was multi-tasking a combination of calling a dentist, homework and solving a case."

"Not very busy then." L leaned forward and quickly stole Matt's phone who mumbled in slight protest.

"J get in here." L slammed the phone closed much to its owners dismay.

"Hello guy! You gotta baby it a little. I don't go around slamming your laptop." Matt grumbled loudly. The detective ignored the comment and threw the cell at him.

The loud thud of the door hitting the shelf behind it announced J's entry. He wasn't amused at being called in from his work like a servant and marched haughtily to stand in front of his father.

"Well?" He said impatiently. He had an algorithm to solve, two essays to write, a dentist to visit and a bank robber to subdue in Ireland, all in under fifteen hours.

L, non-plussed and used to the boys' ill temper handed him the piece of paper with the note left behind by the killer. Taking it with a huff and barely casting a glance at the sheet he balled it up and threw it in the trash.

Three pairs of eyes stared wide at the action and started to sputter simultaneously questioning his sanity.

Ignoring them all, J grabbed a blank sheet and silenced them by the scratch of a pen he'd magically produced from behind his left ear. Putting the pen back in place he produced another that lay hidden by his hair behind his right ear. The action had L idly wondering how many writing utensils were being obscured in the black tresses.

Finally finished. He gave the paper to L in a more calm manner than he previously wore as his father recited aloud to them all.

"There exists a black kingdom which the eyes of man avoid because its landscape fails signally to flatter them. This darkness, which he imagines he can dispense with in describing the light, is error with its unknown characteristics..." His voice was full of surprise.

Matt and Mello leaned forward as J continued where L left off. His voice danced on their ears almost hypnotically as he spoke.

"Error is certainty's constant companion. Error is the corollary of evidence. And anything said about truth may equally be said about error; the delusion will be no greater."

"And that means what?" Matt spoke after a few moments of silence.

"He's mocking you dad. He's mocking justice and it's attempts of investigating the truth. He knows you have nothing and he's using it to his advantage."

"Your very certain of this?" L asked quietly. He hated being mocked; taken for an aloof fool.

"Yes. This particular poem is referenced from 'Preface to a Modern Mythology' and was written by Louis Aragon. The use of the word _corollary_ is what is striking. It indicates a consequence of something done as a response to another action already performed."

L sat back and the room burned with the silence those words invoked. J's green eyes shined in confusion and analyzed every face in the room. The papers and case file sat gutted and naked for all to see. He leaned forward on the desk and picked up a picture of a woman who lewdly posed dead for the camera. No eyes and brown chord in hand which was missing a finger. A partial note undecipherable from this image alone but was no doubt the same excerpt they were getting him to answer, lay by her side.

What made it all click for the pallid investigator, however, was the burned L in the lovely woman's forehead and the trademark blank expression on his fathers' face.

"You. Did. Not." J hissed at L who lowered his eyes in order keep his face schooled.

Blood boiled in his veins as he glared at the older detective. Mello and Matt were still silent and the blond visibly flinched when the boy looked at him and picked him apart with those impossible eyes. They grew darker as he also realized that Mello knew as well what his father did.

Slamming the picture on the table J grunted heatedly. "And I thought I was the amateur."

As he started for the door he was grabbed by the arm and held in a strong grip. He turned his blazing emerald eyes to gaze into the smoldering coals glaring at him. The pressure on his arm was painful.

"Be very grateful that you are not in my shoes and did not have to be the one to make that call."

"You knew bet-...!"

"Whether you like it or not _I have_ being doing this long before you were ever thought of, so do not make the mistake of thinking I don't know the risks. It doesn't matter if I _know better_. It was a reality I did not want but a risk that had to be taken and you know that.

"You analyze criminal behavior all the time and know that if he progressed to this level of aggression so soon he would have done it anyway. All the victims have been pointing that direction." L's voice was strangely calm yet intimidating as he spoke and J backed down by averting his eyes from the steely onyx.

Releasing his arm, L stood staring at J for a good moment and then turned around, the boy slammed the door in anger as he exited.

He avoided the gaze of his two heirs and walked to the window. He understood why J was upset, naturally it would affect him this way, but even though L understood he had no right to refer to him as an amateur. He shook his head at his reflection in the glass. When was fatherhood going to get easier?

Behind he heard the phone ring and Mello answered.

"On my way." He stood up and L turned to look at him.

"There's been another victim discovered.' Mello looked hard at him.

"A man was found sitting on a bench near the L'eville pond. They found a woman's finger lodged in his throat."

L fought bile from coming up his own throat. Being mocked by a murderer is one thing but making an amateur mistake and realizing it had to be the most disdainful thing he'd ever known.

* * *

A/N: Hey everyone. Sorry for the delay. My computer has a virus which should get cleared up soon. So, at the moment I'm using someone else's. I hope you liked this chapter. It's twice as long as others and more detail had been added.

Thanks for all the reviews. I've replied to them but I'm not sure if you're getting my messages.

About this chapter. I know L might seem kinda ooc but I believe him being a parent would be one of the most ultimate, socially awkward things he might face. I hope you like it. Light will be introduced sometime in the next three chapters. Don't worry, this is all basis for later and I sincerely hope you enjoy the following chapters.

Some had questions about settings. They are located at Wammy's and J is L's son.

**I have a poll set up. See if you can guess what J's name truly is. **

**Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 4: Sightings

_**I do not own DN or any of the characters other than J. **_

_**Please enjoy!**_

Chapter 4: Sightings

* * *

L was not a happy man at present. After Mello and Matt left to check out the most recent crime scene, an ambulance had to be called for Whammy. This left the detective with nothing but troubled thoughts.

Keeping in contact with the hospital every hour on the hour, L was monitoring the condition of his long time guardian. Another heart attack had struck just shortly after 10 am and this one was even more massive than the last.

While L could usually separate work from personal matters, this was bit different and he wasn't sure how to proceed.

J eyed all the untouched sweets on the infamous coffee table with a weary expression. Instead of his preferred confections, L was shearing off his fingernails with his teeth. In thirty minutes there would probably be nothing left to chew on.

He held in a sigh and walked up behind his father and looked at the screen of his laptop.

Mello was sending all the information collected from the latest homicide.

It was a gruesome sight.

The man near the L'eville pond could have probably placed in his late forties. A bit large in gut but swollen all over from the death he'd suffered.

Looking at this and with Watari on his mind, J knew this was not a good combination for his father.

He gently cleared his throat to gain L's attention.

The man started for a moment at the sudden noise but calmed quickly.

"Yes?" He inquired. His voice betrayed no emotion.

"I was wondering if you could use a hand?"

L looked up at the face above him. Then after a moment,

"No."

"Are you sure? You look a bit tired." The boy tried.

"I'm fine, J."

"But..."

"Don't worry about it." L's tone left no room for argument and he looked back at the computer and blacked the screen.

"Wha?"

"I think it's time you left. Go do your homework or something." L muttered. He almost stood up, then deciding it was not worth the effort, he sat back down.

Green eyes searched him. He knew L was not in the mood to be argued with at the moment but he couldn't help himself.

"Why are you blocking me out?" He asked exasperated.

A cold glare in his direction made it clear that the man did not want to discuss this.

"It's nothing you need to involve yourself with. It's my case so go attend your own."

J huffed. "Oh, come on. You've let me help before on other cases. Why should this one be any different? Besides, how do you hope to accomplish anything with only half your mind on this case anyway?"

"What do you mean?" Now L leaned forward in his chair looking defiantly at his son.

"Your mind isn't even half here, it mostly in that hospital with Whammy and you know it."

"I know no such thing now get out of here." The detective admonished, trying to shoo away J.

"You're a horrible liar." J grilled.

"And you're an obnoxious prat who needs to remove himself from my presence." L said looking towards the window. He didn't say it with any venom but in a more firm monotone; still, however, his remark caused an unseen hurt to flash through his sons' deep green eyes.

J stayed silent so long that L actually wondered if he left but then a soft mutter sounded.

"I just wanted to help." And with that J turned towards the door and left.

L watched him go and instantly felt terrible. It's not like he truly meant it. He just wanted to be left alone and with the current twist his case was taking, he didn't want him anywhere near it. He could still visualize in perfect clarity a green shade of chord wrapped around that pale neck.

He shrugged his white clothed shoulders. _Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. Once it's been said it cannot be unsaid._

He unblocked the screen of his laptop. The man on the bench greeted his eyes.

He was sitting up as though he were overlooking the pond. His chord was a deep blue and wrapped casually in his hand. His coveralls were made of some brittle denim and he wore a long sleeve plaid shirt beneath.

He was bald and it looked as though his head had been recently shaved. _Strange,_ thought L. The color of his scalp was obviously a lighter shade of color than the rest of his skin.

Then again, he may have decided to just get his hair cut the day he died. Not unlikely, therefore the detective decided to discard the observation. This killer was into eyes, not hair.

Checking his clock, he decided to call the hospital once again.

After hanging up, he was feeling decidedly worse. His mind was whirring with images of the latest victim and his emotion over Whammy's deteriorating condition was beginning to become more evident.

Onyx eyes glared disdainfully at all the evidence displayed before him. Years of facts and no leads were littering his life and he had the obscure thought that this was all the stranglers fault.

When L should undoubtedly be at Whammy's side to provide some sort of comfort, this poor excuse for investigative work compounded the issue and kept him from his beloved inventor.

It was now he questioned turning down help.

A knock on the door sounded and Mello walked through without any invitation. His hands were on his hips and his cool eyes glared daggers at the detective.

"You know, the sooner you turn this case over to a fresh set of eyes, the better it will be for all of us."

"It seems you've got the same idea as J." L huffed and ran his hand over his face in exasperation. He was really not in the mood to be arguing with Mello especially.

"And I agree with him. You should let him work with us."

At this L's head shot up to glare at the blond.

Mello was not in the least put off from what he was going to say. "Just for a little while at least, L."

"No." L closed the laptop in front of him and placed it to the side. Today, he might just have to throttle the leather clad investigator.

Mello noted the move and recognized it for what it was. The detective was upset and had no qualms about jumping him if he proceeded to antagonize him. Laptop clear, he would have a straight shot at him.

"How do you expect to work and be distracted at the same time? We need him." Mello pressed.

"No. We don't and that's final." L said firmly.

"Yes we do. Quit trying to deny…!"Mello started but winced when his mentor slammed a fist on the table causing everything to rattle.

"I'm not denying anything! I do not want him on this case and that is final. I already have enough to worry about." L stood and walked to the door intent on leaving.

"I will follow you and I don't care who hears me, L"

The detective's hand froze in mid-reach for the handle. For a second Mello could see an opening and tried to choose his words carefully.

"Listen, you're frustrated, I'm frustrated and this ordeal with the old man isn't helping an already open wound. But look at reason, L. If our minds are divided between this and that, we already risk weakness in our deductions. Either take a break from the case and go visit Watari while _no_ work gets done or allow J to come with me tonight to investigate the crime scene." His voice was passionate yet measured. He needed his mentor to understand.

He saw the great detective's shoulders sag and his head lower as he gazed at the floor. L mumbled something softly.

"What was that?" Mello frowned.

L turned around still looking at the floor but stated a bit louder.

"You say to look at reason but you must also look at the logic. Reasonably, I understand and would most likely agree because I'm worried about Watari; however, logically if I allow this, it would require J's involvement.

"I don't want my son involved in this case, Mello. If there was any chance for the perpetrator to get a hold of him…." L let the sentence hang.

The blonde's eyes softened and he allowed a small smile.

"L,' he began, 'I know that you worry about him, but he's nearly eighteen and has solved many cases all by himself. I'll be with him the entire time and you know I wouldn't let anything happen."

"Besides,' Mello added, 'you forget that all of the victims have never been below the age of 32."

* * *

In all truth, Mello couldn't believe he was able to convince L to let J take over.

As he sat in the passenger seat next to Matt with his arm propped up on the window seal, he considered their conversation. Surely L trusted him and Matt to take care of the boy. They were rather fond of him.

As they arrived at the morgue, Mello made sure that he had his clearance when he and J got out of the vehicle.

There was a handsome officer near the desk at the entryway. Since the killer knew that L was involved, Chief Tomlin took careful steps to make sure no one else could obtain further information about the murders and decided that all victims of the homicides would have an officer to oversee the security.

The man gave Mello a once over and turned, then quickly flashed back to the blond. J, who was obscured slightly by the other, chuckled silently.

People always had the same reaction when it came to the investigator. Here was a young, attractive blond clad in nothing but chains and leather and if that wasn't enough to make a person do a double take, than trying to figure out if he really was a man and not a horribly flat-chest girl would.

J absolutely loved his attitude. Yes, of course, Uncle Mels was a total spaz at times but, who wasn't at some point.

"Hey!" Mel shouted and startled the officer. "I haven't got all freakin' night. Either give me clearance or take a damn picture."

Yep, love the attitude.

The officer took the ID and examined it. After a moment the fiery blond snatched the back.

"It's not an essay! Am I cleared or not?"

For a moment the officer looked substantially annoyed and then waved him by. Just as they started to walk he held out an arm.

"Who's he?" He nodded in J's direction.

Mello looked ready to pummel the man but instead just grabbed the teen by his wrist and dragged him past the cops out stretched arm.

"None of your business."

The cop watched them go through with a humph and turned back towards the door.

They marched through a hall that was obscenely grey and boring with doors on either side. There was a chemical, almost clinical smell to the place. Very few people were still working this late at night. Mello figured they must have a lenient shift schedule; perhaps rotating day and night unless someone actually wanted to work in a morgue at night. The blond grimaced. Whoever would willingly work third shift with bodies everywhere must be a tad sick.

Finally they came to one of the doors and knocked.

"Could you be any louder?" J admonished lightly.

"Afraid I'll wake the dead?"

"Well if Matt's expertise is anything to go by…"

"Oh, .ha." Mello mocked.

The door opened and a plump, short woman greeted them. Judging by the look on her face as she smiled at the blond she recognized him.

Quickly she ushered them inside and proceeded to a file cabinet that was combination locked. She rolled the numbers back and forth to the correct order and popped open the drawer to extract a file.

She indicated the chairs in front of her desk and they took a seat. She thumbed through the manila folder and hummed a bit, her dimpled cheeks becoming her most prominent feature as she did. Exhaling a blow of air she finally addressed the two.

"Nice to see you again, Watari. I trust your little friend is a trustworthy source so I'll get right to business."

Mello smiled with thin lips. He liked things to be brief and concise. This woman's professional protocol was right up his ally.

"The man was Patrick Lambeau, a retired off-shore oil worker. He's been dead for approximately fifty-eight hours blah blah blah, on to the cause of death and mutilation to the cadaver."

Getting up she went to the cabinets holding several nameless corpses and opened one, she motioned for Mello and J to come over. Pulling the sheet back, she revealed the body of the late Mr. Lambeau. The two guys scrunched up their noses at the lingering smell.

"Cause of death is pretty much the same as the others. He was asphyxiated by a blue piece of alcryn chord which was found in his hand. Minute traces of steel flaking were found on the back of the neck. And the most interesting component not originally belonging to Patrick here," she rattled a small sanitized jar, "was found wedged in the mouth at an angle.

"This belongs to the lady that was brought in just the other night." She stated.

Mello nodded as he looked everything over. L really screwed up by ignoring the initial threat. He watched bemused as J took the jar holding the appendage and studied it. His eyes were intent and, for a moment, they knitted together in confusion. He looked at the forensic pathologist.

"Do you have a magnifying glass?"

She nodded, puzzled for moment and then led him to a small work station where different lenses could be used. Asking permission, J pulled on some gloves and pulled out the finger to examine it under one of the lenses. Adjusting the magnification after a moment and re-situating the finger he asked.

"Did you examine the finger? Specifically near the cuticle?"

"No. Not at this magnification anyway." She replied and looked into the lens. Squinting at first she pulled on some glasses to better examine the indicated area. She gasped.

"Watari." She motioned for him to look.

The blond leaned over and examined as well. He frowned slightly, not trusting himself to speak and looked at J. Then he looked at the woman.

"Patricia, please keep this to yourself and log it into the file. I'll want a copy as well."

Nodding she bustled back to the desk, giving the two time to speak quietly to each other.

"Dad is going to like this." J muttered.

"I agree. This guy gets sicker every second. Not only is his degenerate little game headed to more vicious grounds, his little game is getting more complex."

Suddenly J perked his attention towards the pathologist. "You said there were trace amounts of steel on the back of the neck?"

"Yes."

They walked back towards the man lying on the slab. Thinking for a moment, he asked, "Did you check to see what kind of steel?"

"Oh, yes. Let me just see…" She picked up the report and looked through it. "Ah, here it is." She handed the folder over.

Mello noted out loud. "Composition of chromium between 12 and 14.5%, a carbon content of approximately 0.6%, and the remainder iron and trace elements. Classified as martensitic stainless steel."

"Razor blades?"

Mello looked at J. "Possibly. Thank you for this. Is this my copy?"

Patricia nodded as they left.

As they walked towards the door, they noticed briefly the change in police officers as the new one simply nodded in their direction and continued to flirt with the receptionist.

"Took long enough." Matt berated as soon as they got in the car and quickly flicked his cigarette before turning the key in the ignition. Instantly a hand whopped him upside the head and he sputtered. "Mel, the fuck?"

"Don't bitch. Just drive." Mello said resolutely as they took off.

* * *

The Hospital was quiet considering all the beeps and minor fusses the nurses made over certain patients. L had been escorted to Whammy's private room in the intensive care unit.

At first he stood in the door and tried to control his breathing. As childish as it sounds, he never liked hospitals or clinics. It was a nervousness conjured by a subconscious memory dating years back; one so suppressed that he would need to dig a bit deep only to discover a vague set of images and sounds.

Walking in through the sliding glass door, he glanced at the solemn figure prostrate on the medical bed, closed the door and pulled the heavy pastel curtain to obscure his presence.

"Is that you, L?" The voice of the habitant cracked tiredly across the room.

"It is."

L shuffled to the chair seated beside the bed and assumed his usual posture. After a moment of reading the small clip board lying on the bedside, he decided to unfold himself and sit rather sullenly with his spindly arms and legs drooping. He didn't want to think logically at the moment. If he did, he would have to face the facts he tried to deny.

Denial wasn't so bad after all, L thought.

"After all this time you still manage to look like a forlorn child waiting for the train at a subway station." Whammy chuckled softly at the owlish look those black eyes reflected.

"You seem to be well enough to make wise-cracks." L muttered softly, expertly keeping the emotion out of his voice.

The white-haired man just tilted his head in a touché acknowledgment.

After all this he still manages to look like a perfect gentleman, L mused.

"Just so you know, I have already made all my arrangements and I suspect you'll agree to them yourself. Roger will take control of the orphanage itself but you have the ultimate say. After all, it has been your home far longer than any of theirs; therefore I believe I am correct in leaving it to you.

"All my wealth has been divided into generous amounts between all the children into trust funds. The rest are in investments. J, of course, gets a rather large sum."

"He doesn't need it, Whammy." L said crestfallen.

The older man's mustache gave a small twitch under his nose.

"He may not need it but I want him to have it. In the event of your death, before J turns nineteen, Near will be holding the account information." He said firmly.

"Near?"

Whammy nodded. "I think he's a good choice."

L sighed and for once felt entirely exhausted. He opted to tell the man just what the boy was up to and how Mello convinced him to agree. The dim light caused the detective's frown to look deeper and more defined. The old man seem to chuckle at the bitter tone in the other man's voice.

"So, does that mean you didn't care what happened to me?" The spry man said in mock seriousness. His ward just huffed in turn.

"Lawliet,' Whammy began, 'You may never truly know or understand why I say this. But I am so very proud of you."

The younger of the two looked up at the sound of his name. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment and sat a bit straighter. He'd received praise before; for many things in fact, but for some reason this little admission had him disconcerted.

"Why?" was all he could ask.

The senior regarded him carefully.

"I've had the honor of watching you grow up. From a quirky young lad to an incredible man, you have earned the respect of many people in the world. Remember the time you put your socks in the furnace just so you wouldn't have to wear them?" At this the inventor let out a breathy laugh.

"Yes, quite quirky but your mind is brilliant. I've had many times where I've stood by amused because of your prowess. When you started to solve mysteries in novels before you even finished them, I knew there was something great inside of you. And now, here you are!"

Whammy made a viola motion with his left hand sweeping over the form in the chair causing the occupant to snort in amusement.

"Here you are all grown and recognized the world over as the globe's three most famous detectives. And now, you are also a parent that, from the sound of it, is worrying and fussy as every good father should be."

"Think so?" L tilted his head to the side in thought. He'd admitted to himself that being praised as a genius and great detective was nothing new to him. If anything, it gave him a bit of an ego. No wonder Aizawa thought him arrogant when he worked the Kira case. He chided himself for the small fault but, he couldn't help it. What was work without having intimidating confidence?

His black hair fell choppily into his eyes making a perfect veil. Until now, he hadn't registered the fact that he slowly resumed his infamous posture. As a result, his ability to reason shot back up.

"Really, Lawliet." Whammy said softly. L nodded silently and the inventor noted how small the younger man looked as he seemed to ball up into himself. His legs were completely drawn up so that even his toes barely curled over the chair. His arms surrounded his knee caps as his hair hid part of his face.

Over all, Whammy thought, he looked identical to the little boy he used to be when he first became the inventor's ward.

He hadn't wanted to tell L all these things just yet. But it didn't take a genius to understand the situation pressing in on them. The room seemed to get heavy and for the first time in many years, Whammy had to bow his head and stare morosely at his aged hands gathered in his lap in order to mourn, not for himself but for the individual next to him.

A nearly inaudible sob cracked the silence of the room as the great detective finally understood the meaning of their slightly one-sided conversation. The words on the chart he had read earlier rang clear in his mind.

A louder, more pitiful sob escaped his lips unwillingly. Quillish Whammy was saying goodbye.

* * *

Mello and J were roaming the opposite side of the pond adjacent to where the body had been found. It stood to reason that the killer may have been watching the entire investigation from a vantage point in the area in which they scoured the ground.

It was incredibly dark and normally they might have waited until daylight to be investigating, but the forecast was predicting rain and by tomorrow evening all trace evidence could be lost.

Mello grunted with exertion as he climbed a small slope to the top where J was perusing.

"It's an excellent view from here. If he came by and was low to the ground, we might not notice at all." J said once the blond reached the top.

"Well he would have had to been here before the entire investigation could fully start. Look down the slopes. The trees are far too thick to be just waltzing up here from any direction." Mello scanned the area before he continued. "So the only way up here is a straight shot."

Looking down below, he could clearly see the bench as well as a wide span of the area surrounding it. The killer could have easily seen who came and went. Somehow that thought was not comforting. After all, he'd been prancing around down there himself to gather info from the on-scene officers.

He looked around some more and scowled at the ground. His dim flashlight glinted off an object nearly obscured by leaves. He crouched down in front of the large oak and shifted the leaves around.

"J." He called. "I found something."

The teen walked over and crouched down to examine what Mello had dug up. It appeared to be some sort of camera lens. Flashing his own light around the tree, J studied the space of disturbed ground behind the oak just over-looking the scene below.

The killer had to have been right there. Watching the entire time with a camera and using the devices' zoom to scope out the party below.

"Hello. What do we have here?" He asked himself.

Upon hearing the teen Mello looked up as J had leaned forward and picked something off the ground.

Studying it for a moment he looked to his counterpart. "It's a clasp."

"A what?"

"A clasp. The kind that might go on a neck tie or certain trousers, I wonder what it's doing here? It seems to be broken." J handed the object over to Mello so his cool eyes could examine it.

The blond looked back down at the spot and started to brush the leaves back with a mesh gloved hand. He thought he saw something at one point that seemed to tumble out of his line of sight. Before he could reach to look for it his phone vibrated.

Leaning back up, he pulled the phone out of his pants with mild difficulty. Leather did not like to cooperate with him today. Glancing at the screen he groaned.

"It's your father." He said pointedly at J who just shrugged.

"What? Yeah, he's fine…He's standing next to me." Mello looked at J and then whipped around to look in another direction quickly. The boy eyed him curiously when he began to whisper into the phone. Whatever it was, the slump in Uncle Mels stance indicated the seriousness of the conversation and it began to worry him.

A slight curse and the slam of a phone alerted the green eyed boy it was over and Mello stood for a few seconds with his back to him.

"What is it?" The soft voice spoke and he made his way to the other on the slope. "What is it Uncle Mels? What's wrong?"

In the back of his mind, an inkling of fear started to tickle and when the detective turned around, his face confirmed his thoughts.

"Whammy?" His soft voice cracked and Mello nodded. Patting J on the shoulder he hooked an arm around him and began walking them towards the parking lot near the pond.

"Come on. L didn't sound so hot and I think maybe he needs to have someone there for him."

"I'm not really sure if I'll be any help." J said. His mouth seemed very dry.

When they reached Matt, he wasn't where they had originally left him. He was parked near the entrance standing next to his beloved car smoking a cigarette beneath the street light. When he registered the look on their faces he knew something was wrong.

"L called. Watari is gone." Mello said as they reached him. He ushered J into the back seat. The poor teen looked incredibly sullen. In the half light of the street lamp he looked so small but somehow stable. His green eyes were shining and Mello was certain that J was fighting not to cry. That brat had a lot of pride.

Once J was taken care of he turned to Matt who was shaking his head at the news.

"Shit is getting ridiculous." He muttered and Mello shrugged and looked around noting a cop parked a little ways up the street.

"What are you doing camped here? Why aren't you in the lot?"

Matt flicked his cig and nodded in the direction of the cop car. "Apparently, in light of recent activity, no one can park in the lot after 9pm. He said if I insisted on staying here that I should at least pull up to where he can see me."

"Pfft. Whatever. Let's just get outta here." Mello huffed and got in. He had an uneasy feeling at the moment and it seemed somewhat separate from the situation dealing with the death of Whammy. As they drove off, he felt a bit better but still took a look around just in case the source of his restlessness decided to jump out at him and he eyed J in the back seat. The boy had the window down, looking somberly out the opening. The officer inside the cop car they passed was speaking with a man who was at his window. They both looked up as Matt drove by, the officer waving and the man staring intently at the figure in the back seat, who proceeded to scowl at them both.

* * *

Eyes watched with astonishment and sharp intensity as the car drove away. He still couldn't believe what he heard earlier.

Slowly, he replayed the words in his head, isolating the ones that seemed to scream at him.

"_It's your father."_The blond had said.

"_What? Yeah, he's fine…He's standing next to me."_A concerned father inquiring the whereabouts of the boy.

Someone died and then… _"L didn't sound so hot…"_

_L didn't sound…L!_

A wicked grin split the face of the man. He was at first concerned about the lens and the clasp those people had found, but with this information… it didn't matter. He had finally got the piece of leverage he needed. The final thing to draw the mysterious detective into open ground!

He laughed heartily and loudly, and then quickly suppressed the sound into chuckling. And the leverage, oh damn, the leverage. The moment he laid eyes on the boy a pleasurable jolt shot down his spine.

The boy was perfect. Even though much of the light that reflected off him was dim, so many things about him were strikingly clear.

His hair was black, thick and healthy tied back out of his face but with just enough strands loose to tease the corners of his eyes and lips. His complexion was clear and pale but not unattractively so. Then there were his eyes….

The killer's own eyes rolled up into his skull. His eyes were freaking beautiful! Never had he witnessed such intense green. They were dark but bright and shined with an unnatural intelligence.

Well, if the boy was indeed L's son, than he must have a whopper of an IQ. No doubt, this boy would be the nail in L's coffin and even though he was considerably younger than his range of victims, for the son of a famous detective, he would make an exception.

But for now, he had to plan and his plan needed to be carefully laid. He was certain that very few people could do what he was about to… scare L and force him to make a fatal mistake.

* * *

_**A/N: I know it was long but please tell me what you think. I recieved no reviews for the last chapter so I'm kind of worried. ^^' There is a poll on what you think J's real name is on my profile.**_

_**PLEASE HELP THE MUSE... by clicking on the little review button at the bottom. Thanks!**_


	6. Chapter 5: Failure

**Disclaimer: I do not own DeathNote or its characters other than J and this particular plot.**

Chapter 5: Failure

* * *

That morning two days later, London news channels were buzzing with the tragic loss of famous and charitable inventor Quillish Whammy. Reports even displayed pictures of a young and easy man leaning against a desk top in a pair of pressed slacks and slightly obscured suspenders with a vest neatly buttoned. His hair was completely dark with just the beginnings of a mustache cropped close to his face which had the most handsome smile showing through.

Of course the picture was depicted in a brown and tan color scheme as, at the time the picture was taken, there was a transition from purely black and white photography. It didn't matter, the attractive inventor could not be considered as anything but friendly.

There were a few individuals who could truly attest to that fact. Those few were currently standing around an open grave; quietly they listened to the soft drone of the minister as he spoke over the casket at the bottom.

It was the middle of the day, the sun high in the sky while the speckled shade of leaves from the trees sheltered the small band of mourners. The preacher had finished with a final prayer over the departed soul and people started to slowly leave.

Through the dappled light Matt watched Mello from a small distance as he fingered the many worn beads on his rosary. Stress tended to have this reaction with the blond. Not that Matt minded. It was one of the reasons he respected and admired the man even though it was a bit ironic that a still imposing and former mafia member could be pious.

The redhead glanced over to the last two people near the grave and felt a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach. Next to each other were father and son.

L was in his usual slouch and his clothes were the same as they had been before J was born. White three-quarter sleeved shirt with slightly baggy jeans adorned his body today.

J stood to his right with hunkered shoulders as if in some sort of defeat. He wore casual dark blue jeans and a red t-shirt. Non-descriptive jelly bracelets gathered at the wrist of his left hand.

Then, as if a silent shared idea, Matt saw them look at each other. L was still taller than J even in a slouch but at seeing this interaction, it was plain to see that the look in his mentor's eyes was that of gratefulness. There was pain, yes, but so much to be grateful for what he still had that shown through.

Matt smirked as he lit a cigarette. He could now see where J's right hand laid against his chest fingering his own rosary. If he was honest, it was a beautiful adornment that usually stayed under his shirts. The beads were well worn but still had a crisp cut out of the onyx stones. The crucifix was also made of hard polished stone and black with gold leafing.

"You've had some influence over him." Matt said as he exhaled smoke, finally noticing Mello.

"I suppose." Mello said softly causing his friend to look at him concerned. The blond looked tired but held himself together. "Let's go." He said.

Nodding, Matt looked once more at the two and caught L's eye and indicated they were leaving.

L nodded and looked back at the grave and nodded once more. "Let's go J."

"Yes' sir."

* * *

Once they were in the car and on their way back to Whammy's, L decided that silence, though comfortable, was something he did not want. He watched J out the corner of his eye and, though the detective was tired, he allowed himself a brief moment of to indulge in memories.

He could still remember the day he was adopted by Whammy. He was scared and uncertain as the kindly gentleman held his hand as they neared the gates to the orphanage. But he held on tight to that hand.

"Did I ever tell you,' L started causing J to look at him for a brief moment as he drove. "How scared I was when you were first born?"

J's eyes widened a little as he turned a street. His father never really divulged much information about his birth. The boy didn't even remember who his mother was and L never bothered to tell him. The man continued to speak.

"You were nearly two months premature and though many infants can still live, the doctor insisted that your chances weren't so great. To be honest…I wasn't so optimistic either. Then again, after all I've seen, what could I be possibly optimistic about?"

"Why did I have to be born early?" J asked. He never knew he was premature but that would certainly explain a few things.

"Your mother…she was not in the best of health. So the doctor told me that it was a high-risk pregnancy and, even though she knew it as well, she insisted that all would be well in the end."

The younger detective noted the lilt in his father's tone as he paused. From what he knew his mother died at child-birth and that was all. However; J's shoulders slightly dropped, did that mean he was the reason for her death? _Did dad not even want me to be born? It's logical that if she was ill, her chances for life would decrease exponentially; therefore, perhaps…._

"It's not your fault J." L's soft drawl came from beside him. He was able to see the cogs turning behind those green eyes and knew what he must be thinking. "I don't blame you."

They pulled into the gates of the orphanage and J turned off the engine once inside the garage just behind the main building. He sat sullenly looking at white hands on the black steering wheel.

"I know you don't blame me now, but…." Black tresses hid part of the youthful face as he spoke. "Did you ever?"

"Yes."

J winced. Leave it to dad not to sugar coat the truth.

"Look at me." And he did. L sat staring at him in the next seat and J was shocked at the open book in front of him. His eyes like large black jewels were shining with an almost foreign emotion. His pointed and sallow face was, for once, not a blank mask and revealed the intense sincerity of his emotions.

"J, I was angry. You must understand this. When the doctor told us the chances I was adamant that she terminate the pregnancy. Not only would we lose the baby but there was a high probability of her dying as well. I did not want to lose her and as far as I was concerned there was no way you were a person. But she was insanely stubborn."

L smiled quickly at the thought.

"She knew me well enough not to tell me how serious her illness was or I'd never agreed to anything. Constantly she berated me on being too serious, much like you do, and told me that I would learn to accept things when all was said and done."

"So then what changed?" J asked in a curious tone.

"Your chances."

An eyebrow quirked at that statement.

"We had rushed her to the hospital as quickly as possible. Things after we got there seemed to pass in a blur and before I knew it her time was up." L bit his thumb contemplative. "She was bleeding and there was no way to stop it. Her brain shut down and then one by one, so did everything else.

"The doctor came and said that there was no way you would make it once her heart stopped. If you did, you would no doubt be handicapped. So he was practically saying that it would be more than appropriate to have you die with her."

The detective's brow knitted together in an angry crease. "I spat in his face and told him to make damn sure you made it. I suppose you became real to me some time before that but it was only then I truly noticed I wanted you to live. I wanted to keep you alive not just because you were everything to her, but because you were now everything to me."

J's heart, for some unknown reason, beat rapidly in his throat. He didn't understand if it was the loss of Watari or this whole case that caused his father to confess something so greatly. But it made him happy. It was a strange feeling that flooded him and he almost felt anxious.

He felt a shift as L made to get out of the car and walk back to the house and he followed suit. And as L passed the iron gate leading up the path, his memory stirred one more image. Much like the first time he arrived, Whammy was squeezing his hand because L was once again scared and uncertain, the only difference was he was much older and the reason for his anxiety was bundled up in a big blue cocoon, sleeping in a baby carrier.

When L walked in the house he grew quiet and looked around. Somehow, the fact that Whammy would no longer be running about the house fretting about L or the children, laughing or giving victory smiles about a new invention, left the detective feeling suddenly drained.

He shuffled and made his way to the stairs as J called out, "Are you going to want dinner?"

"No, thank you." He muttered and added, "I'm a bit tired." _Make that really tired._

"Okay." J said softly as he watched his dad climb the staircase to his room; he noticed the fact that the great detective seemed to move slowly and wearily.

Sighing, he made his way to his own room conscious of the fact Mello was probably waiting for him so they could continue their portion of the investigation and he needed a bit of rest himself.

* * *

Billy was finally on his way home. He walked through the crowded streets around the square at a brisk pace with his friends on his mind.

He chuckled silently to himself. They were crazy but he loved them. He had just gone to dinner and a show with them right after his classes. Of course he got teased, playfully, about his vegetarian appetite after that slasher film. But he couldn't help it, brushing back his thick locks of dark hair and crossing the street to the quieter and secluded area he lived in, he thought of the gore he'd just witnessed in the movie.

There was no way he would be able to eat anything slightly carnivorous for a few days.

An ambulance passed and he frowned seeing the gathering of emergency lights up ahead. There had been some accident of that he was certain. Oh well, he could take the shortcut through the side alley.

It's kind of spooky going through the alley at night, he thought. The fresh rain had hampered all the materials cast into the narrow passageway and caused many things to have unearthly sounds and creaks.

He was almost to the other side when he heard shuffling behind him and quickly whipped around, screeching as a cat leaped out of nowhere and hissed at him. Billy sat shocked on the ground a few moments then laughed. _Heh, I should really stop watching horror movies._

He'd been down this alley several times as a kid and nothing bad ever happened. He lived in a nice crime free-zone since the police regularly patrolled the area.

He took a shuttering breath trying to calm his pounding heart and started to get up and froze.

Now _that _was no cat. Twisting his head abruptly, he looked up to be blinded by a bright flash. He fell back on the ground when a sudden kick landed on his side.

Winded, he struggled to crawl away from his attacker but was quickly stopped as another blow, this time to his head, caused him to see white. Blood seeped from his temple as he heard the soft grind of the ground shift beneath foot falls and stop in front of him.

Daring to look up it didn't occur to him to fight and his green eyes widened as he stuttered, "W-what? I d-don't understand."

He trembled as the voice chuckled darkly. At the wicked sound his mind kicked into gear and he lunged at the man's legs, knocking him off kilter and into the damp bricks of the wall. They landed with a grunt and Billy jumped up and ran back the direction of the ambulance and cop cars he'd seen a few minutes ago.

He had been so close, could even see the emergency lights when a sudden constriction halted his movements. He struggled viciously with the cord around his neck but his movement faltered further when his body was lifted by the material and all he could do was struggle on the tips of his toes. He clawed at the cord around his neck while his finger nails cut his skin in panic.

With a quick jerk by the attacker a sickening crack resounded in the alleyway and Billy went slack.

He had been so close, too close.

* * *

Chief Tomlin was in quite a tizzy. He hadn't heard from L in a week and his patience with the man was beginning to wear thin.

Watari was being as helpful as possible and in some ways assisted in alleviating the stress on the officer and his investigators. The mustached man stroked his facial hair as he sat behind the wooden desk laden with papers and files.

Yes, Watari was incredibly perceptive which is why he invited him to the station to look at the newest victims.

Dark eyes studied the cloaked figure in front of him as the man looked at the files. Finally a cloaked face shifted to reveal the youthful features of a young man with sharp brown eyes. The sudden revelation startled the officer.

'Watari?"

"I'm tired of playing this cloak and dagger game. It's about time you knew me anyway. This,' Watari slammed the pictures in the file on the table, 'is bull shit."

Recovering from his stupor, Tomlin gave the other man a steely gaze and waved his hand over the manila folder.

"Do you think it's a copy cat?"

"No. It's definitely the Strangler." was Watari's curt reply.

The officer stood, shook his head and looked out his office window. This entire case was already beginning to take a grim turn and now this. The aging man noted all the faces outside his window. There were strangers, vendors, dealers and families laughing and chatting as they walked the streets.

If he allowed the news of these latest victims to come to light, he could imagine a smaller mass of people happily roaming the streets as they did now.

"Why, Watari? Why would he make such a sudden change?" he sighed.

The cloaked man looked apprehensively at the photos. He had a vague idea and it made him sick but of course he lied. Well, partially.

"I can only assume he's seen someone he either really hates or really likes. Now he's falling into a fantasy with the victims." A slight lilt was audible in his voice as he said the last part.

Tomlin turned to look at him. Watari was tense and that was saying something. A frown made its way to the surface of his face and he was certain that there was something the man was not telling him.

"Watari..?" He started and the younger man looked up at him from the chair. He leaned anxiously on the arm of the chair with one gloved hand knuckled under his chin and Tomlin could see the intensity of the warring emotions behind those magnificent orbs.

"I will bring this to _his _attention. May I?" He indicated the folders and with a nod from the Chief, picked them up, hid his face and walked to the door just as another person walked in.

It was an officer who seemed familiar to the aggressive detective. And before Watari could identify the man, the officer spoke up shakily.

"Excuse me Chief Tomlin, but we just received a call that a young man has been missing since last night." He said hastily and then looked at the trench coat wearing figure and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"And?" Chief Tomlin pressed.

The officer tore his eyes from the unmistakable Watari and answered.

"Well, we checked the area around his residence and in an alley near his home. According to his parents he often uses it as a short cut. We examined it and found evidence of a slight struggle. There was trace blood splatter on the ground and some pieces of litter."

Watari shifted uncomfortably and asked, "Where are his parents?"

The young officer looked at the Chief who nodded then proceeded to reply.

"They're here…Hey!" Watari shoved the man aside and then looked for the tell-tale anxious looking individuals who were most likely the parents. Fixing his eyes on a couple across the room he stalked over and began to question them. They willingly supplied him with a picture of their son just as the chief and disgruntled officer made their way to his side.

Numbly, Watari handed the photo to Tomlin and silently left the building. The missing youth's beautiful green eyes and tousled black hair burned into his conscious just like the other two people in the manila folders in his hand.

Stripping himself of his trench and throwing it in the back of the car, he startled Matt by hurling the folders full of pictures of the two latest victims in his lap. The redhead who had dropped his PSP during the ordeal watched concerned for Mello who sat in the side-seat. He was pallid and looked at the hacker who raised an eyebrow.

Mello took the folders and pulled out four pictures. Two before and two postmortem and handed them to Matt as they waited in his car parked in an alley a block over from the police station.

A once over of the photographs saw the chain-smoker coughing uncontrollably.

"L…is going…to…have our heads." He panted as he choked on the cigarette.

* * *

No words could describe the dread Mello felt as he made his way to L's room. A tumble of soft tones made him look into the crack of the door. He suddenly felt sick again.

L was lying in bed propped up by a mass of fluffy pillows and covered up to his waist in the soft beige duvet. He sipped tea quietly as his eyes studied the person in front of him. Though obviously tired, Mello could still see the fondness in his mentor's eyes as he watched the prattling green-eyed brunette that took up residence on the bed with him.

A flash of the second victim popped it's ugly self into the blonde's brain and he grimaced. He had looked so similar to the bouncing boy who was currently amusing L by his innate ability to speak 140 km/h.

He knew this was not what L needed right now, especially with Whammy's death so fresh on everyone's minds. Yet he knows that L is the only one who can catch this criminal because, in light of recent events, Mello is sure that the impressive detective will take his son off the case. Before or after Mello and Matt died, he wasn't so sure.

Taking another deep breath he knocked on the door and let himself in. J greeted happily and L gave a slight nod in acknowledgement. When the boy turned to look at something to his right, Mello frowned at L signaling with his hand he had to talk with him. L's eyes slightly hardened.

Obviously Mello did not want his son to hear the conversation.

"J, could you excuse us? I wish to speak with him a moment." The youth looked back up and nodded, running his hand softly over his father's hand in a rare show of physical affection. The great detective silently contemplated that he hadn't done that in a very long while.

When the door shut L looked at his former heir.

"I went to see Chief Tomlin today." The blond stated.

"And how is he?"

"Well, he's…frustrated and angry. The case has been going nowhere and now we have two more victims, possibly a third."

L huffed. It seems like no matter what he does things just keep spiraling. It's a wonder he hasn't lost his mind yet.

"Well I suppose you and J will be going to check out the crime scenes." He took a sip of tea and waited for Mello to confirm his statement. When he didn't his sharp eyes looked up blankly at the uptight blond.

Something was wrong and judging from the look in Mello's eyes that _something _was not going to be well received.

Keeping his face completely blank, he held his hand out for the files in Mello's arms. Hesitantly the blond complied and waited as the other man skimmed the contents. As the time passed, L's face became more and more impassive which didn't bode well.

He knew what L was reading in those words. The age of the victims, the cause of death, what happened up until the cause of death and finally the description of the victims.

When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and monotone. "Where are the pictures, Mello?"

This was it. Producing the pictures from somewhere behind his back (childishly hoping they wouldn't be asked for) the objects were handed to him. L never bothered to look up when he had previously spoken nor when he accepted the photos.

"And the third one? The one who is missing?" Still not looking up.

Mello took out his smart-phone, having previously asked for the missing potentials picture to be sent to him, he pulled up the photo and handed his cell to L.

Mello knew…he just knew that the third would be the most glaringly obvious. Sure enough, it was the one that evoked a reaction out of the normally stoic man.

When the detective looked up from the phone, his face was partially shaded by choppy black bangs, but it wasn't enough to obscure the fury in those eyes. Oh his face remained eerily blank and void of emotion but his eyes, never had Mello ever seen such a fierce anger.

L didn't speak or rather, he couldn't. He was that mad. After seeing the third person, his emotions came full circle and settled on white rage. Taking a moment, he looked back at the phone and scrolled to see the info of the victim.

_Name: Gallagher, Billy T._

_Age: 16_

_Description: Black hair, shoulder length. Green eyes and Caucasian; last seen 7:30pm on October 29, wearing a tweed waist-coat, brown corduroys and dark penny-loafers. Assumed to be on way home…. _

L's eyes stopped reading and he looked at the picture once more. J, the boy looked so much like him.

Steely eyes turned back to Mello who visibly flinched.

"Tell Tomlin I will be meeting with him soon." He commanded. The other guffawed at the detective in disbelief.

"L, that's not the best…"

"No.' Mello's mouth snapped shut. 'Enough is enough. Need I remind _you _of what I said wasn't the best idea?" L growled out the last words. He knew exactly what these pictures indicated. He knew exactly what emotion the killer wanted him to feel and he was pissed that it was working.

If the strangler wanted him, he had him but he'd be snapping someones neck before they even got close enough to threaten J.

As Mello turned to comply with his command, he felt a chill go through him and looked back to see the glare he was getting.

"You're not finished with me yet are you?" He sighed when L continued to glare. Calling Matt to come upstairs, Mello knew that they were both going to be thoroughly chewed out and interrogated.

* * *

It was really surprising that he was able to get so close to the house. You'd think a world famous detective would have better security. The man snarled at the thought.

_This genius is the world's biggest dumb-ass. _

Glancing around, he spotted the candy-apple red Chevelle he'd followed all the way here, or tracked. That, the man grinned toothily, was the white elephant in the room. The spicy little number that could be recognized anywhere. As soon as he had seen it, he wasted no time in placing the tracker next to the tail-pipe.

It wasn't hard. That poor guy with the horrible red hair was way too into his little handheld game to spot any mischief.

He especially knew that he had the right vehicle when that leather clad, blond bombshell skittered into the alley where it was parked.

Barely containing a manic giggle at the thought of seeing him looking sick as he got in the car, the killer rubbed his hands together. This was the reaction he had been looking for. It turned out that he didn't need that many victims to get his point across.

Just the two worked nicely but the crème de la crème was about to start. Taking one last look at the magnificent house, he crept back down an obscure path, most likely forgotten, and headed to his own vehicle.

As soon as he got in and started the car, he picked up the tweed waist-coat that had been in the back seat and inhaled the deep scent of the previous owner. It was delicious, arousing to think of what he had done just hours ago.

He placed the coat in his lap, a few beads of blood still present on the material but it was okay, he could handle it. As he drove away he fingered the material absentmindedly, wondering what the scent of his ultimate goal would smell of since physically, it was already intoxicating.

* * *

As soon as L got off the phone with Tomlin, he knew this was the one that he needed to see. He ordered Matt to grab his car and dragging Mello/Watari with him, he jumped in the back seat.

Of course, not just minutes before, he had been arguing with J about him even going. L argued that he was in potential danger and should stay home. J argued that since it seemed he was already known, going wouldn't be a problem.

J lost the argument eventually when L left him speechless by getting in his face about it. He didn't shout or anything, he spoke mechanically and logically, but it seemed the one who couldn't keep his emotions in check was the youth.

Giving up, the boy stalked off to his room and slammed the door leaving L to look after him sighing.

_I will never get used to this._ He sighed once more as they were on their way to the third victim.

It had been confirmed that the body was that of Billy Gallagher. When they pulled up to the scene of the crime, it was oddly the same place that he had been presumed attacked. The alley which was just a short way from his home was swarming with badges and press and bystanders with morbid curiosity.

Allowing Mello to go and rally the police to clear the people away so he, L only under the guise of Landon, could survey the scene himself took a painfully long time. And when he was able to finally get out of the car, he softly popped Matt and asked for his coat.

He walked back to the place where Chief Tomlin was waiting on edge with Mello and Matt's coat covering his face. This would be the second time, he thought, that he would reveal his face in order to catch a criminal. Even though he was under an alias, the same stuffy feeling of losing crept in his bones.

If Tomlin was stunned by L's appearance he hid it well and spoke in a gruff, professional manner.

"How long since he was found?" L asked as they made their way to the site.

"He was found early this morning when a woman who was walking her dog found she couldn't control him. The dog ran off into this alley so she chased him. This was where it lead her." The Chief indicated to the tarped off area that prevented the public and the distraught parent's at the end of the alley from seeing the body.

As L rounded the corner of one tarp he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Heaven help me." He uttered in shock. His eyes widened and lips stretched thin across his pointed face as he looked upon the body. L's mind screamed at him.

J! It was J… and then it wasn't. It was Billy. Billy Gallagher who was bound and slumped against the wall, Billy whose hands were gnarled in a frozen attempt to grab something, Billy who had fine tears of blood leaking out of his mouth onto his white t-shirt…Billy, whose hair was jet black and eyes, according to the cord in hand, just a shade of green too plain but close enough. Close enough to be who the killer had wanted him to be.

As L walked closer and studied the body the chief began to speak.

"We estimate his time of death to be around seventy-two hours. But according to the on call coroner, his body shows signs of having been refrigerated."

The dark grey-eyed detective looked at the man from a mobile crouch on the ground and nodded.

_That would explain why there's not much decay as of yet. _L looked back at Billy and flicked a mental switch to be the logical and impassive investigator he trained himself to be.

He could see scratch marks on the boy's neck and he spread his fingers to the length of each angry welt. _Finger nails. He was trying to claw at the cord._

_But here is bruising as well and the angle at which his head is laying is off. _L stood and backed up a minute to look over the entire cadaver. Tilting his own head he concluded, _broken neck. _

But there was something about the entire thing that kept making L feel like he was over looking something. Standing farther back he nodded at the chief and Mello asking if they noted something peculiar as well.

Tomlin couldn't think of anything other than the fact the victim was not horribly mutilated and his coat was missing.

Mello looked a bit harder as he was always more into details as a child. "It almost looks like…like he's reaching for something."

"What?" The burly man inquired as Mello stepped closer.

The blond nodded to himself and indicated the outstretched arm that had only been bound near the top. Crunching the wet gravel as he walked towards a point, keeping his eyes on the angle of the arm, Mello stopped in front of a trashcan loaded all around with bags of garbage.

He searched the contents but found nothing.

"Maybe it's nothing." L said.

Mello was just about to concede the point when his eyes caught something peculiar. Frowning he reached forward and picked up a Ziploc bag with a book inside. It had been jammed under the last garbage bag almost carelessly.

He walked back to the others and pulled out the book.

"A poetry book?" The Chief stated as he turned it over in his hands. "Why would he leave a poetry book?"

"If you remember,' L began, 'he once left a small excerpt behind at another crime scene. The one near the White Chapel district."

Taking the book himself and pinching its back-cover between his fingers he flipped through the pages. All looked rather normal. Flipping through the pages again, he finally found a marked section detailed in soft pencil lead. _Wouldn't want to make it too easy to see, _L huffed.

It was a play created by Edger Allen Poe, "The Politian." The marked section was the final scene and the last of Politian's dialogue.

_I'll follow thee- Like an avenging spirit I'll follow thee even unto death._

_Before those whom thou lovest…I'll taunt thee. Do you hear? With cowardice-_

_Thou wilt not fight me?_

But that was as far as L read because near the bottom of the second page was a note to him. Elegant writing with small letters greeted him as he read it…once, twice…three times. Large eyes looked at the chief as unmistakable fear jumped up his spine.

"We need to go! I know where he's heading." He tossed the book at the shocked men and started to run with Mello following. "Hurry, Please God, just hurry!" L called behind him as he noticed the still shocked figure of the chief.

Snapping out of his daze the man gathered up some officers and they took off after the red Chevelle almost losing sight of it several times.

After losing sight of it once more, Tomlin called Watari to ask the directions and was surprised to find they were headed towards an orphanage. "We know where it is." He confirmed and radioed his officers.

Meanwhile, somehow managing to stay slightly calm, L kept calling J's cell phone which wasn't answered. He called to the point it started to go straight to voice mail.

When they drove up to the building, they noticed all the staff and children were surrounding the building.

"What's going on?" L demanded as he saw Roger some feet away, who just threw his hands in the air in confusion.

"Not sure."

"Have you seen J?" He asked desperately.

"Well… come to think of it, no. He was still in his room when lunch was served." Roger said as he looked around for the mass of black hair among the children. He shouted after the detective when the man started off towards the manor.

The fire alarm was going off but there was no fire. As soon as L ran inside with Matt and Mello hot on his heels the police arrived with some springing into action to follow the trio.

Adrenaline pumped through his body as L ran up the flight of stairs. He wasn't even conscious of touching the steps or turning corners in order to get to the room. All he could register was kicking in the door and freezing in the center.

When Chief Tomlin finally made it up the steps and the fire alarm had been turned off, he walked into the room his officers were going to and fro in the manor. His dark eyes noted the state of the room was in chaos.

Papers and photographs lay all around, books were scattered on the ground from shelves partially broken and shards of glass lay from smashed lamps and other fragile objects on the expensive carpet floor.

Hearing a raised voice from the adjoining room he walked in to witness a pitiful scene. Watari was standing next to the entrance of the room rigid with a redheaded young man and elderly man; he believed his name to be Roger, standing towards the center of the room.

The room held computers and several books. It was decorated tastefully in warm colors and soft recliners. There were no windows in this room, only a chess set against the wall where one would expect a table to be. But what got to the chief was the individual facing the wall. It was the man who he'd just been informed was L, the greatest three detectives on earth. He was rumored to be calm, calculating, and cold with harsh logic and incredible strength of mind.

The great detective was none of those right now.

He turned when he heard the Chief walk in and heard the man gasp. He knew what the man was seeing: a hunkered individual with restrained emotions boiling beneath the surface, he knew he most likely had blood shot eyes though he hadn't cried. He wanted to, _oh how_ he wanted to.

But it wouldn't bring J back. It wouldn't take L to where his boy was and he walked towards the chief with an object in his hand.

He cleared his throat several times trying to hold back his despair and settled on handing him the object.

Tomlin had to stare hard at the picture but before the name Billy could form on his lips, Watari spoke and confirmed what he'd suspected the other day. That the man had knew more than he let on.

"He goes by the name of J." He spoke loudly. "That is probably the only picture we can hand you."

Tomlin's mustache bristled further as he looked at the picture. There was something more familiar about the handsome young boy in the picture. And then it struck him and he looked at L. They had the same ivory skin and similar facial structure; their hair looked identically black with the youth wearing his just a bit longer. But unlike the dark grey of the man before him, this J had the most beautiful haunting green.

"He's your son." The gruff man said matter-of-factly and a pained look flashed in the other man's eyes.

It was hard to look at the man in front of him without feeling terrible for him. The chief after-all had two little girls at home and this would certainly…he didn't want to think about it. What was worse was what he had to tell the famous detective, knowing the man also expected it since he had handed him the framed picture.

"It's personal now, there is no way you can legally work on this case due to your attachment and relationship to this boy. Is there…" Tomlin cut himself short.

Those large owlish eyes stared at him thick with tears which were threatening to start rolling down his face. He didn't make a sound and nodded ever so slightly for the man to continue. Mello stepped behind L letting him know he was there.

"Is there anyone you can think of, perhaps a colleague with your level of experience that you can call on to help?" Tomlin asked softly.

Again, L nodded.

"Who would you like to reach?"

Shifting his body weakly, the raven haired man felt a numb sensation start to pass through his body, there was only one person he could call. He just prayed they would help.

"Plea… 'L cleared his throat and shook his head, 'Please contact Superintendent, Yagami Light."

* * *

**A/N: Hey, thanks for those who added this to your story alerts. However, I would really appreciate some reviews.**

**I'm beginning to think I suck and have no clue if that's true. ^^ So press that wonderful button below and tell me what you think for real. Anonymous reviews are accepted as well but please review constructively if I do suck or just type the word "good" if you like it and don't wish to be all mouthy.**

**Again, thanks for the alerts, past reviews and reading this story. Now...LE CLICK THE BUTTON BELOW!**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**v**


	7. Chapter 6: Five Percent

**Thanks for the reviews! Replies are at the bottom.**

**Warnings: Mention of non-consensual lime. If the idea or proximaty of rape or molestation bothers you, please skip the part I indicate. It is small and non-graphic but you have been warned. Bad Language.**

Chapter 6: Five Percent

* * *

Light Yagami had arrived at the Heathrow airport in London only to be greeted with rainy skies. He sighed and managed to locate the baggage claim with little difficulty. It's not like this was his first time being in the phenomenal city.

Brushing aside some of his feathery hair, he looked for a taxi to take him to a hotel before he went to Scotland Yard.

As soon as he was outside the airport a man in a British officer uniform met him. It took a moment for Light to separate the man's syllables as he wasn't used to hearing British English.

"Are you Senior Superintendent, Light Yagami?"

"I am."

"Then will you please follow me. We have already prepared a ride for you."

Light bowed slightly and followed the man to an unmarked police cruiser. It seemed that his being here was more important than he had originally guessed.

He idly wondered what was exactly required of him as he was driven through the streets of London. He had been ordered to leave immediately and pack lightly.

...

"_Right now?" Light asked incredulous. _

"_Yes."_

"_Commissioner… this a bit sudden and to London? Of all places why…?"_

_The Commissioner looked at Light sagely from behind his desk. He was a stout man with steely eyes and entirely white hair. From behind the oak furnishing he looked ready to burst._

_Standing he walked around the desk to sit on the edge in front of the younger man._

_It made him feel old knowing that not just so many years earlier the young man had been receiving a promotion that would start a chain of events in climbing the ladder of police ranks. Yagami had been so young and zealous then. He was still just as wily, the commissioner huffed in thought._

"_I know you want a reason as to why you are being sent. All I know is that, from what I've gathered, there is a series of murders and now the latest person to go missing and yet to be found is the son of some sort of official."_

_Light thought for a moment. "Did they send anything to you, a fax or something with the case information?"_

"_No." The man said gravely._

_The very thought had the young superintendent blinking. The case was that important? _

_..._

Again, Light wondered why this case was so secret; if the string of cases had been going on so long, why all the secrecy now?

The New Scotland Yard building was impressive but nothing that seemed overwhelming. The building was standard size for investigative agencies that handled vast amounts of cases and information.

He was escorted to an office by another well-mannered officer and asked to, 'please wait here.'

He adjusted his usual dress and tie as his golden eyes observed all the objects in the room.

Plaques and photos lined the walls with certification papers, and other materials sat nicely on the mahogany desk. The office had a wonderful view of the street outside which bustled with people.

Light had a strange feeling as he watched them. They all seemed to be staying as far from the other individuals as was possible while going to do their business. An officer seemed to be escorting a group of high school students across the walkway.

_What is going on here?_

"Good evening Mr. Yagami." Light turned to see a stern looking man with a bushy mustache closing the door with a thick file in his hand.

"Good evening, Mr. …?"

"Tomlin. I'm Chief Tomlin." He bowed slightly and then shook the others hand.

Standing by the window with Light he looked out as well. "What are you thinking, Mr. Yagami?"

"They look scared." He replied and when he heard the sigh of the man next him he decided to take a seat. He was a bit tired after the plane ride.

Following suit, the chief smoothed down his mustache as he thought. The man reminded Light of his father when he did that. It had been a couple of years now since his death but the young man still felt like a child when he thought about him.

"I apologize for the rush at which we needed you to be here. I understand you must be tired so I will try to keep this briefing as short as possible."

Light nodded.

"I was told I was requested." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes. Now, as to the reason you were asked to come here, there has been a chain of murders that span a period of eleven years. The person responsible has been disappearing after every few victims to avoid capture."

He laid the thick file on the desk in front of Light and opened it.

"As you can see, the MO has been strangulation with a common type of chord. All victims have been about late thirties and older."

"The chord matches the color of their eyes." Light uttered as he read. "So the recent victim, the diplomat's son, he was about thirty I presume." But the Chief was already shaking his head.

Rummaging through the photos the officer located the latest victims. "Before the one you speak of, these were the first three victims who went missing."

Light grimaced at the pictures both before and after death. He easily made the connection and the chief was slightly impressed. It had taken him an entire staring match to find it.

"The killer had the last victim in mind when he attacked these others. Black hair and green eyes are traits attributed to the client's son." He puzzled for a moment. "They're very pale too."

Another photo was about to be handed to him when the action was halted. Golden-brown stared at the hard dark eyes across the desk.

"This is the only photograph given to us by the latest victim's family. It is highly secret and will not leave your possession. Nor will you have any copies made without express permission." Chief Tomlin's speech left no room for argument.

And only after Light affirmed he understood was he given the picture. Uneasiness crawled up his spine as he looked at the boy but couldn't place the reason. He caught Tomlin regarding him with new interest.

* * *

The briefing took a full hour and a half. At the end he was allowed to leave and shown to a hotel where his belongings were already waiting. He placed the case file next to him on the night stand and dressed for bed. There was no sense in working while tired and his mind needed to be focused when looking at the evidence.

His last thoughts had him only guessing why the last victim was so precious.

…

The alarm went off and Light stirred groggily. Despite what people have assumed he was not a morning person.

He stretched, turned on the television and went to take a shower. After he was finished he toweled off and wiped the steam off the mirror when he started to brush his teeth.

Listening to the morning news was a bit disorienting after he remembered he was no longer in Japan.

He went into his room and called for room service to deliver him breakfast. When he sat down to his meal he had grabbed the case file and started reading from the very beginning.

After munching some of his hash browns and taking a drink of juice his brows came together in confusion. Someone had been investigating this case before he had and it wasn't someone in the local law enforcement.

The agency was listed and no attempt was made to conceal the officer's names; however, there remained several small blotches to the paperwork where something or someone's name had been carefully hidden by a sharpie.

_Hmm… that's interesting._

Light was still musing over the paperwork when the door to his room echoed with a knock.

Chief Tomlin had came and excused the early morning visit and entered the room followed by a couple of officers.

"Sorry to bother you so early in the day, Mr. Yagami."

"It's fine. Please." Light indicated the chair.

"How is the case coming?"

"Slow. I started reading from the beginning and I can appreciate exactly why this man is hard to capture. Disappearing periodically after every few murders, leaving fluids and other evidence but no hits in AFIS or any other national searches." Light chuckled without humor.

"This may take a bit longer than I expected but the evidence gathered by your officers and the former investigator for this case will help me, _especially_ the evidence given by the former case handler."

Amber eyes searched for any hint of duress at the mention of his predecessor. And he found it, a subtle whitening of knuckles on the arm of the chair and a blank look was put in place.

"Yes. We are glad that the information will be helpful." The dark haired man replied stiffly.

Light stared at the man in front of him a bit longer before nodding curtly.

Tomlin returned his stare distinctly understanding that the man in front of him was looking for something because he had sensed the secrecy. The silence was only broken when the chief's mobile rang.

"Excuse me." He stated as he walked towards a secluded area of the room to take his call.

* * *

Light quickly learned that majority of his time on the case would be done in a meeting room within the police station.

There he was able to create a diagram of the murders and a timeline. On the marker board starting on one wall to another trailing to the third wall, Light had managed to hang up pictures with a series of lines connecting them to info about the victim, how they were discovered and what date they were discovered. The marker on the fourth wall was only partially written on where he had decided to place theories or ideas.

He sat in the leather chair staring at the third board. His dark beige jacket hung on the back of his chair, his usually neat hair was rumpled and countless paper cups littered the table behind him from where he had consumed copious amounts of coffee.

A week… he had been here a week. And it was driving him insane. Usually his cases were solved in two to three weeks but he always had a lead by his first week. He was nowhere near a lead at this point and the damn secrecy concerning the diplomat revealed to him that, not only were the documents blacking out entire sentences, but they had deigned to take away some of his evidence.

The picture of the woman in front of him was prime example. Something had been burned into her forehead but the mark had been blurred digitally. The symbol burned there had its description blacked out on the documents.

Finally pissed off enough he asked for the Chief to meet him in the room at lunch.

When Tomlin walked in, he automatically noted how the usually clean white room comprised with cushy chairs and a long oak table was askew. One look at the room's single occupant lead him to believe that Mr. Yagami's generous mood was about to crack altogether.

He pulled a seat up next to the man and sat.

"I'm amazed how methodical your examination of the case is. A wall of diagrams… incredible."

"Mr. Tomlin,' Light began, his fingers were steepled in front of the lower portion of his face, elbows on his knees as he spoke, 'I need the rest of the evidence."

"I can't do that."

"I repeat,' the auburn haired man spoke with strained calm, 'I _need _the rest of the evidence."

"I said I can't provide it." Chief Tomlin said in the same manner.

Light's calm demeanor finally cracked and he stood abruptly, knocking over his chair and ripped the photo of the Whitechapel woman off the wall and slammed it on the desk.

"The key to this whole investigation is on this woman's forehead!" He ripped another photo down. "As well as this shoe and no one is telling me what it is!"

"Mr. Yaga-…"

"NO. I am not having this discussion. You said I was sent for. You said that you needed my help. You _need _me so why are you taking away my means to get this criminal?" He huffed and ran a hand through his hair.

Dark eyes watched as the frustrated figure went to the board and pointed a finger.

"Right here. Right here is where things went from bad to worse. There is an event that has taken place that results in the increased violence." Light walked towards the end of the diagram and picked up a bright colored marker and circled Billy Ghallager.

"This boy is the finally step before the diplomat's son disappeared. This boy,' Light circled doubly the picture of the last victim, 'is the boy who appealed enough to the killer for him to practice on three other victims before him."

His eyes observed the picture. He could see what the killer saw. He could see why he would be the victim. The picture showed the face of a young boy approximately fourteen years of age looking over his shoulder with a warm smile on his face. Startlingly green eyes stared out of a dark set of windblown bangs and the boy's ivory complexion was flushed with a slight pink blush.

"The killer thought he was pretty." Light said softly causing the Chief to rise and stand beside him.

There was no information written about the boy to the side other than he was kidnapped from his own home and there was evidence of a great struggle. No ID was or could be written.

Tomlin sighed.

"I will talk to the official. He was very distraught when this happened and left the speaking to someone else after he handed me this picture." The older man pulled the picture gently from the board while Light studied his face.

"You knew him." He finally said.

A smirk lifted the edges of the man's mustache.

"Not the boy but I know his father."

Light shook his head and sat back down. "Can you tell me anything about him? Does he have many enemies?"

The man holding the picture guffawed and looked at Light. "You could say that almost everyone is his enemy." He chuckled at the startled look he received.

"He's a good man. A fierce individual who takes what he does very seriously and makes some dangerous decisions every now and then when he thinks the situation merits it.

"You must understand it is the existence of these enemies that keep much of this information from you and majority of this police force. He has to maintain utter secrecy and though at the moment he could care less for his own safety, there are those who continually must remind him of the situation at hand."

This was interesting to Light. Who could be so important and have so many enemies? Who could keep this much secret? A slight whisper from the past echoed in his mind of one person who was capable of such a thing.

"You said you could contact him? Tell him this; I think that wherever his son is, he is still alive."

A comical look of surprise showed on the Chiefs face. His mouth popped open slightly as he mouthed the words as to why he would believe that.

"All the victims belonging to the perpetrator usually turn up anywhere from eighteen to fourty-eight hours after initial abduction. Some hadn't even been reported missing before they were found dead. It has been ten days since his disappearance." Light walked to a fourth board and started listing things.

_Day 1: He vanished from his home with signs of struggle. _

_Day 2: Notified NPO and requested agent. Agent left that day._

_Day 3: Agent arrives in England._

Light didn't bother writing the rest of the day except for a line drawn to that day's date.

"As you can see, he has yet to be discovered and the handling of the boy murdered before he was abducted was a few hours over the 48 hour mark. If anything, this man makes certain that his victims are always found and he doesn't like to keep them longer than a designated time."

"Why not?"

"If he keeps them longer someone will notice. I believe that was how he avoided capture from the detective before me. The longer a victim or body is held, the more suspicion surrounding a particular individual in accrued."

_So he would have to get rid of them before too long. Serial killer or not he is conscientious about his victims and how long he keeps them around. _

* * *

**Warning: Non-con **

The first thing he could think of was that his head hurt.

Green eyes slid open and tried to focus. Everything was so blurry that he figured his eyes must be dilated. Before he was force fed the drugs through his vein J recalled the way the room had looked when he came to the first time.

It was a bedroom with off-white colored walls and imitation wood furnishings. The dressers were covered in everyday knick-knacks and neck ties. He guessed he was in a house somewhere on the outskirts of London.

His training as a detective had him analyzing every little detail that first day. Not that he even knew what day it was today or how many days he had been there, J was painfully aware of one thing. There were cars just beyond the window that drove back and forth every day. At night they were barely heard and when he thought about it he was more likely in a suburb.

He glanced up with tired eyes to look at his hands. They were bound to the iron head board with white zip ties. He had tried struggling out of them before but he only succeeded in making them painfully tighter.

He thought it somewhat amusing that that bastard had to use several of the damn things to bind him. But J guessed he couldn't fault him for that since he had tried to take his head off when he kidnapped him. The guy had a pretty ugly bruise on his jaw from the ordeal.

J, however, got the worst of it.

"Well, look who's awake." The voice said and J stiffened.

He glared at the man from the bed as best he could. The drugs were still addling his brain.

The man smiled at J and sat next to him on the bed. The boy tried to shake off the man's hand but couldn't as it caressed his face almost lovingly. He shouted through his gag and loud muffles could be heard.

"Now now, don't be that way.' The hand went to his neck and up his tattered shirt on his chest as J just squirmed all the more. 'I've narrowed down where to finally put you. I'm stuck between two places, well, three actually."

The man spoke as if he was talking about the weather as his hand stroked the boy's skin.

J shuddered and with great effort stopped any tears from welling in his eyes as a rough and calloused finger danced over his nipple.

Emeralds burned at the amused face of the man. They turned an even darker shade when the cocksucker tilted his head to expose the pale flesh just hiding behind some of his dark locks and began to sample the vein pulsing beneath his skin.

As teeth began to gnaw and mark him J squeezed his eyes shut as he thought about what was to happen. Even if the man had only ever focused on the upper portion of his body so far, he had a feeling that it would soon change.

His mind was screaming that he had to get out of here but a stone of hopelessness had already girded itself around his chest. As the sensations continued his mind kept on its hopeless screaming for this to over.

Unaware he was squealing around his gag, J had buried a portion of his face in one of his bound arms and started to cry. He wouldn't open his eyes.

He squeezed them shut so hard he saw white when he felt fingers at the hem of his jeans.

The button was snapped open and when J finally looked up and saw the hand hovering above it and the man hovering over him, panic set in and he thrashed violently. The action threw the man off the bed.

"Little shit!" He forgot how strong the brat was. But right now he needed to quiet him. He hadn't stopped thrashing or screaming even though he was gagged.

He went to the dresser and drew up a shot of the sedative. He managed to get the drugs in J but because of all the movement, the needle broke off in his arm.

_Doesn't matter anyway. It'll just be one more thing for L to be tormented about when I dump this kid._

He soothed J's sweaty hair to his face with soft murmurs of 'hush now,' as he calmed against his will. The gag was removed. Even though his body was shutting down, he could not shut off the screaming in his head.

Before the image of the man faded and he slipped back into sleep, the young detective had one thought… his mind was no longer screaming to be let go and for this to be over, it was screaming for L.

"Daddy…." It was barely audible but the man heard it.

**End: Non-con**

* * *

Light had finally gotten some restrictions removed on his actions. He was cleared to go the morgue where the forensic analyst was waiting for him.

When he entered the room his eyes swept the walls that had cabinet like fixtures to house the bodies of many people. There were metal slabs in the center of the room with shower like heads hanging above them and little metal trays with glass bowls and beakers sat atop them.

His eyes ended up fixing on the plump woman behind the desk whose eyes were also surveying him. She seemed to like what she saw and shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Mr. Yagami? I'm Patricia Maxwell. Chief Tomlin told me to expect you." She stood up from behind the desk and shook his hand.

"Yes. I was wondering if I could gather some evidence from you since some of the material has been conveniently lost." He admitted and Patricia could see he looked incredibly tired.

She sighed and waved him over to a file cabinet. She pushed the manila folders back and Light observed her with interest as she reached and pulled out a series of envelopes from the very bottom.

He opened them and studied the contents. Anger flashed on his face. It was the same damn thing that Tomlin had tried to give him.

"I don't see how they think I can run an investigation without giving me what I need! What is wrong with the police here?"

Patricia looked startled. "You're on the case now, what happened to…." She cut herself off and her gaze grew steely.

Light whipped his head around at her statement. "What happened to…what?"

Her eyes looked at the envelopes in his hand for a long time. "Mr. Yagami,' she started somewhat sadly, 'I believe this has gone on long enough and they can't pay me enough, not that they've tried, to keep me silent any longer."

Gold eyes grew concerned and they sat down at the desk.

"I have to admit something Mr. Yagami. I cannot mention names but I can affirm what you are saying about the evidence. Without the missing items in those documents there is nothing you can do." She leaned forward and continued speaking.

"Did you know there was someone working the case before you? Good. To tell the truth I am surprised that you are and then again I'm not. The person who usually collected evidence here and brought it back to their superiors has not been around for some time and it was only after the last victim was discovered I spoke to them at all."

"What do you know Mrs. Maxwell?" Light asked. Something in her tone lead him to believe that she was about to confess something important.

"He had beautiful green eyes and dark hair. His skin was almost porcelain-like. Very intelligent it seemed, which is why I believed he had accompanied him."

"Mrs. Maxwell, I don't understand."

"There is a fourth boy missing. That boy was here not too long ago with the man who picked up the evidence. That is all I can tell you Mr. Yagami but know this, the man who gathered the reports from me, is a well known figure though-out the world. _Especially,_ law enforcement."

As Light walked down the road he had much to think about. It was around noon and the sun was high in the sky. For once London was blissfully cloud free. He tilted his head up and allowed his face to drink up the rays and let his mind wonder.

He would go back to the station, only a block away in the center of the sprawling metropolis, and continue to brew over what he had been given. That was when he overheard the news.

He walked to the patio of a café which had an outdoor TV set up for customers during the day. All of his body strained to hear the words being spoken by the news anchors. The report was about a Quillish Whammy and his late donations to a certain number of charities. But what truly grabbed his attention was the photograph of the man. He looked maddeningly familiar to him and something started clicking out of sync in his head.

He ran the rest of the way to the station with his mind in overdrive.

In the room he was working in he had tossed papers around and looked up the picture on his computer that had been displayed on the news.

"I've seen him before but… where?" he muttered to himself. He was about to slam his hand down on the table in frustration when he caught sight of an older man talking to his co-worker outside the door.

It was the man's white hair that made it click and like a series of tumbles that fell into place, Light promptly fell off his chair.

...

Tomlin was startled out of his reverie when his office door was slammed shut and there stood an outraged superintendent.

"What is the meaning of this?" He stood but was immediately cowed back into his chair when Light slammed a folder full of pictures and envelopes on his desk.

"Where is he?" The voice was low and filled with a dangerous calm.

"I don't know what y-!"

"The hell you don't know what I'm talking about!" Light shouted.

His hands scrambled around the desk and pulled out the picture he printed of Whammy and the photo of the boy. He then slammed the blanked documents on the desk and pointed to each one as he spoke.

"There is a series of one-letter wide mark-outs on the documents, _one letter. _This man who just passed was the right hand man of the investigator before me. And this boy is running out of time." He breathed out harshly.

Tomlin's stare was hard as Light finished his sentence. The Chief remained stubbornly quiet and the other detective used the same method as the pathologist to get his attention.

"He has grey eyes that could be mistaken for black in the right lighting. He has a sickly pale complexion and horrible posture. He stoops when he walks." Tomlin's eyes were growing wider and Light continued.

"I can tell you personally that he is an insomniac, has been for many years. He has an ungodly addiction to sweets and an IQ that rivals Einstein. He is the one who police forces all over the world run to when they need help. He is the only being alive who can erase his own existence and still roam the streets without a care. I don't think it is necessary for me to go on Chief Tomlin."

The man behind the desk lowered his eyes and shook his head. Light leaned in closer.

"Chief Tomlin, please, if this boy is who I think he may be then make that phone call."

Tomlin said nothing as he picked up his cell phone and hit one number. He handed the blackberry to the other man.

After a few rings a mechanical voice answered. "_Yes, Tomlin_?"

Light smirked. " Ryuuzaki, you have a less than five percent chance of being the London Strangler."

* * *

**A/N: ****Review Replies-**

**blacknightjoker: **_I'm not sure how much I'm going to put in about J's mom but if you would like more about her I can cook something up. ^^_

**ShatteredKnight: **_I could see also that it was dragging. I'm trying to improve that but am not sure how. Could you suggest a way that could help or refer me to a beta? Mine has not replied to anymore of my messages. Also, glad you liked the ending and I can see what you mean about the suspense. I wanted to go ahead and get Light out there in the story. As far as the closeness of the death and kidnapping...I wanted to create that sensation of "When it rains, it pours." But since you pointed that out, perhaps when I'm finished with the story and do a reconstruction I will fix that. Thanks so much and I would love to see how your art has improved. I always look forward to your comments because you make me think._

**xallfalldownx: **_Haha. There won't be much left of him when L gets his hands on him. (winkwink)_

**DeathZoom: **_Thank you! I thought it was._

**_Now...tell me what you think and get COOl POINTS! REVIEW! _**_P.S. If you would like to Beta this story or my other please send me a message. If you would like to Beta specific chapters, that is also fine._


	8. Chapter 7: Premonition

**Hello Everyone! Thanks soooo much for the reviews but I would like to send a special thanks and a plate of J's awesome chocolate no-bake cookies to my wonderful Beta, _Fullmoons-Wings_. For without her, I would have thrown myself down a flight of stairs. x3 **

**Thank you so much Fullmoon, you have no idea how appreciative I am for all your encouragement and guidence. Here's to us! **

**I do NOT own Death Note because if I had my L and M's would still be alive. **

**I know this chapter is my longest yet but I hope you enjoy, also, IMPORTANT info at the end of the chapter! R & R!**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 7: Premonition

* * *

Light's ears registered a small dull beep on the other side of the phone followed by a breathy chuckle. L had turned off the voice scrambler.

"_It's been a while, Yagami-kun."_

"That it has. It's good to hear your voice."

"_I agree. How is the investigation going?"_

The younger man sat down in the chair across from Tomlin who he dimly noticed having a look of complete shock on his face.

"Do you want me to be honest?" Light huffed. "Is it because of you that certain evidence is being withheld from me?"

"_Withheld?" _The voice seemed stiff.

"Yes."

The Chief watched the detective's face transform into a look of confusion. He was certain that something was more than a little off but couldn't understand what since the man on the phone was speaking in Japanese. Gold eyes looked in his direction momentarily and then to the wall. More talking, silence, talking, silence and then a warm smile seemed to spread across the man's features before the phone was handed back him.

"Hello?"

"_Please escort Mr. Yagami to his hotel so that he can collect his things and have him brought to _that _location."_ There was a click. Tomlin had the vague idea that the digitized voice was upset about something. He wondered idly as he began to get ready to leave if that voice was angry with him… he certainly hoped not.

Then again he thought if he wasn't the one in trouble there was definitely someone who was.

"I wouldn't worry, Chief Tomlin." The voice broke through his musings as they got into the car. He looked at the young man who continued.

"It was Watari who told you to withhold certain evidence wasn't it?"

He began to nod when the light bulb went off in his mind and shuddered. _Poor, poor Watari._

* * *

The place was massive. That's all Light was able to think when the car pulled through the gates.

The gate was attached to a large fence that was visible from the street and ran along the front part of the property. the sprawling perimeter of the estate. Once inside the primary gate Light noticed that a smaller and less significant wooden fence circled lazily the large perimeter. It was more of a boundary indicator that didn't spoil the overall effect of the country side. Even car-wide sections of the fence were missing. The area was surrounded by a thick growth of trees that were all very lush and beautiful.

The building itself was impressive. It looked to be built of large, dark brown stone walls with sharp dark roofing. Small gargoyles perched on corners of the roofs edge overlooking every aspect of the grounds. The circle drive was lined with neatly trimmed bushes and grass. Statues of animals divided the foliage from time to time and small flower gardens were currently being tended to by a man in white coveralls. The young detective watched as he plucked the withering orchids from the dirt and dug a small hole to drop in a flowering bulb. They should bloom next spring.

All in all, the place was beautiful. L certainly knew how to live it up, thought Light.

Tomlin stopped the car in front of the establishment and they both got out. An older man greeted them by the door.

"Leave your bags here, Mr. Yagami. I will have them placed in your room." The younger man was taken aback by the thick accent.

"Thank you, sir."

"Not a problem. Now if you would please follow me, L is expecting you."

The moment the name fell out of the man's mouth Light tensed. He couldn't believe that after all this time he would finally see him again. Would he look the same, wild jet black hair and constant white shirt and baggy jeans, or would he have thinning peppered strands and, well… Light couldn't think of him without the same clothes.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Yagami?" The older man asked.

"No. I'm sorry I was stunned by the use of his moniker." They began to walk and Light observed the grand foyer and staircase as they started to climb. He also noticed several small children around the establishment who seemed to be carrying on as though it were normal to play puzzles in hallways, read books while walking and chattering away with others.

"Well this is his home, Mr. Yagami. We hardly call him anything else."

_Hmm. Point taken._

They passed through many hallways, all very elegant and filled with expensive tapestries and rugs, portraits and landscapes hung the walls and some of the windows were stained glass. The roof was arched high and loomed above when they reached the top of another set of stairs.

At the end of the corridor was a large oak door that was slightly ajar. Light held his breath and Tomlin did the same, both conscious of the being on the other side and both aware of the _presence _that only L had.

Nostalgia swam through the younger detective as his mind vaguely recalled a much younger version of himself walking towards a door with much the same emotions fumbling through his head. It was when he first officially began to work with the eccentric man and believe it or not, he had been nervous.

The elder man knocked sharply on the wood of the door frame and entered.

"Chief Tomlin and Superintendent Yagami are here," announced the heavy accent.

"Thank you, Roger," replied a softer voice.

Roger, as Light now knew him to be, indicated for them to come in and then he turned around and left closing the heavy door behind him. Gold eyes registered the crème colored room and the dark furniture. He found it all very tasteful and that it somehow fit the occupant of the room.

Back towards them and in a dark mahogany high-backed chair facing the unlit fire place was the legendary detective. It seemed to Light, from all he could see of the man, his hair was just as wild as ever with only vague little strands of gray shining throughout. A pale hand waved to them over the chair.

Tomlin was the first to move and greeted the detective politely as he sat in an opposite chair. When Light stepped forward he was overcome with that same sense of nostalgia. His tan hand wrapped around a pallid one as their eyes connected for the first time in years.

His heart sped up.

The look in them was enough to take him back to a workroom with dimly lit screens and random typing while in the solitude of barely-there silence a chain rattled. Gold eyes flickered to his wrist and back up. The look on L's face was amused and he nodded in acknowledgement.

Once all were comfortable, Light just couldn't take his eyes off the figure in front of him. It was the feeling you get when you finally find something you need and had no idea you were looking for. Even his ears tingled a little when he heard L speak solely in English. With all the languages the man knew it was amazing to hear the same British accent from L as those all around him.

"Thank you for coming. Especially you, Light-kun. I understand it was short notice."

The man nodded. "L, I hate to be blunt but what is all this about? Why did you quit this case?"

"First let me ask you what you understand about this case?"

Tomlin watched for an hour as Light and L spoke to each other. The younger of the two disclosed all the information he knew as the other would nod at appropriate intervals. Sometimes he would inject scraps of data that was missing from the original files and at times they bickered but it wasn't with any venom, more like two people who were following a routine. The Chief considered the possibility it was an old routine for the people in front of him now. He just shook his head and watched bemused.

For the first time in days L could feel a smile tugging at his lips. Whether he knew it or not he had missed this banter and if the spark in his guest's eyes was any indication, so had he.

Finally the man sighed and turned his gaze to that of the Chief's. "I apologize that Watari advised you not to hand over all the evidence."

"I would say it was alright under any other circumstances; however, please don't be too hard on him. This is a request from me. I don't believe he was trying to harm the investigation considering who you are on the world's playing field."

"I also understand that, Chief Tomlin, but he should know that lack of _any _evidence would be detrimental to this case." L said firmly.

Light shifted. "You said Watari… I saw his picture on the news."

"You did. Quillish Whammy is… was Watari. The one you know. He passed away about a week and a half ago. I have since then had another fill his role."

"I'm sorry, L," Light's posture straightened. "But he is not the reason you quit this investigation."

L sighed. "You are persistent."

"Would you expect anything less?" He challenged.

They were quiet for a moment and then inaudibly L leaned forward and opened his laptop; he turned the screen towards the men so they could see a photo. It was the one still missing who looked back at them. Green eyes shimmered back at the young man even through the pixels.

"Tell me what you see." L said softly.

"We know the killer has been building up to this victim," Light indicated as he studied the picture.

"How?" Tomlin asked.

"Because, as we've spoke before, he still has him in his possession. He must have thought him special enough to keep this entire time and therefore, since the first three were recovered on an average of forty-eight hours, this is the goal he's been trying to achieve."

Light leaned forward towards the picture and stared at the victim. He listed off all the things in his mind that brought him to his previous conclusion.

The conclusion was hard to swallow and a little sad, but with that ivory skin and unbelievably dark hair, there was little chance of being mistaken.

"L, I'll ask just once more. Why did you quit this case?" The look in those light colored eyes was firm and broached no nonsense.

"You already know."

It was a statement. A fact that L laid out before them as he looked into the eyes of his archrival turned true friend.

"And I expected _nothing _less."

The man nodded. "I just wanted to make sure. I… L, you can see that it was difficult for me to draw that conclusion at first without you reaffirming it. You never truly let on that you were capable of humanity outside your moral principles."

Another sigh released tiredly from L's pale lips.

"The _case_ relied on the fact I operated with mechanical precision more extreme than I normally would have. But I won't deny the fact that even I'm still surprised about the whole affair."

Spidery fingers crawled through black tresses in frustration.

Suddenly Light spoke. "How old is he?"

"He's seventeen." L spoke softly and the very statement seemed to age him.

Light leaned back in the chair observing the detective. Seventeen. The boy had to have been born just some time after the Kira case was concluded. It seemed like such a long time ago but didn't in the same breath.

He sighed. Though the features of the missing boy and L were similar, he just couldn't imagine that it was true. L was the father of the missing victim. How in the world did that happen?

When they worked together he'd had enough of a difficult time figuring out that he was human at all. Somewhere he'd just supposed that L had popped out of thin air fully grown without being procreated normally. He couldn't see him with a mother or father and now he was being handed the inconceivable fact L had a child.

Unfortunately for him L had always been able to read his mind or so it appeared.

"I didn't grow him in a test tube," the man drawled causing Light to barely suppress a guilty look.

"I believe you."

"Gentlemen," Tomlin spoke up, "I think we should get on with the case."

"Very true," L agreed. He pulled a sucker out of his jeans pocket and began to nibble, tilting his head to the side in a fashion that had the chief thinking of a curious puppy. Eyes alarmingly wide and analytical they seemed to swallow all light in the room.

Truth was it could only be considered disorienting. He shook his head to break the spell.

He pulled out a briefcase that Light didn't notice him bring in and produced the contents of the investigation. Laying out the material he directed them.

"Even though I hate the fact that you cannot become involved in this case due to your son being the one kidnapped, I don't believe we should stop consulting with you. Your experience and expertise with difficult cases would only benefit us more. Nor do I doubt that you are probably looking for him even now."

L's bruised eyelids slid closed as he nodded in affirmation. He popped the sucker out of his mouth and it seemed all he could do to open those portals again.

Light felt his own heart ache for the man he'd come to trust and regard as immovable. To the younger man, the other always had a monolith beating in his chest and despite all the horrible, inhumane things he had witnessed, he was still such a solid individual; cold and calculating.

"Believe me, Chief Tomlin, when I say I have all but gone door to door throughout the whole of Winchester and London to find him."

"Have you any security camera's on the property?" Light questioned.

"We do but only in the common areas. They focus on the food hall, library and playground outside. Also the front gate."

"I wonder how he got in then."

"Oh, I know how he got in." L stated sourly.

Tomlin leaned forward. "Really? What did you find?"

"You saw the holes in the wooden fences when you drove up? One of them is actually an old horse riding trail back when the ranch was closer to this property some twenty years ago. It was also used to bring in trailers to move the horses in and out of the field. I found tire marks that didn't appear heavy enough to be a truck but most definitely a car."

L popped the sucker back in his mouth and stared at the ceiling before speaking again.

"Even though the trail is a little ways from the house I can't imagine the kidnapper having a problem lifting J and carting him off. He weighs even less than me."

"J?" This was the first time Light had heard the missing boy supplied with a sobriquet.

The detective nodded.

When Light thought about it, it wasn't only L's handle that had been marked out of the evidence; it was the boy's reference which had also been wiped. One letter long and just a slight reversed curve of his father's moniker. Somehow that thought struck the young man as a little sad.

* * *

After Tomlin left that evening, Light and L sat in relative and comfortable silence. There were so many things Light wanted to know, so many questions on the tip of his tongue but none of that was what popped out of his mouth.

"You could have called."

A shift of the head displayed L's acquiesce to that small truth.

"I did not know I was going to be seeing you again, Light-kun. Not that I object to your company."

"I understand. I honestly never planned on seeing you again after we left the NPA,' Light sighed, 'That seems so long ago and so short at the same time."

"I feel the same. It's been nearly twenty years since the Kira case."

"Oh, I remember that case quite well. You said _I _was the culprit." Light said with the barest of sardonic smiles.

L glanced at him sharply. Of course this was bound to come up. "_You _were Kira. If I hadn't grabbed that damned notebook from your hand when you started yelling you would very well be sitting on death row. No, you would already be dead."

"We'll never know now will we? Unless you still have my watch that you claim has a page of the notebook in it. What did you do with the Death Note anyway?"

L's face was smug. "I'll never tell."

Light opened his mouth to comment but decided to close it. This was the first time he'd spoken to L in twenty years and he would not throw this opportunity to speak with him again away just because they still couldn't decide whether or not he was Kira. Well… L knew he was Kira but Light wasn't so sure.

According to the media the original Kira had been caught when Higuchi was arrested but then another had popped up. Mikami Teru and boy was that a headache. L kept Light as a shiny little wrist accessory for some time until, through the best acting known to mankind, he faked his own death right there at HQ.

Light had been pained, genuinely pained when he was told that L was dead and never suspected for a moment that he had feigned the agony blazing across his chest.

He shook his head. It didn't matter right now, they would surely have time to catch up on memories once the boy was found and the London Strangler had been brought to justice.

The young detective looked around the room noticing and memorizing every little thing. His eyes landed on the bed and it's slightly ruffle cover.

"Do you still not sleep?" It was an impulse question and he heard L snort.

"Hey, it was an honest question!" Light joked.

Chuckling the older man spoke, "I know Light-kun. But, believe it or not, it is one of my favorite pastimes." He crooked an eye to glance at the other. Light wore an expression of derision.

"Liar." He scoffed.

"Maybe. There's a 71 percent chance of that."

"Oh here it goes." Light rolled his eyes upward. The dreaded percentage review.

"What?"

They locked eyes and stared each other down. Their concentration didn't waver as Roger brought in a tea tray and set it between them. He stared at the two for a minute. They ignored him. He stared some more. They still ignored him and it was only when he cleared his throat that they regarded him with interest.

"The chef would like to know what you would prefer for dinner." He stated.

L looked at Light who shrugged.

"I believe Gyoza* would be appropriate." Roger nodded and left.

"Gyoza? What are _you_ going to eat?"

L looked puzzled and then understanding dawned on him. He smiled one of his small, genuine smiles and it was Light's turn to look puzzled.

"There is a 48 percent chance Light-kun is about to fall out of his chair."

"Huh?"

"I eat sweets only once a day now."

….

Matt was on his way to the library to find Mello who was sulking when he passed by L's room and heard a loud thud and the unmistakable crash of a chair. He rushed to the door but before he opened it to check on the detective he heard voices, one was snickering and another was voicing a pained, 'L, you're a bastard.'

* * *

After two days of staying at L's home Light was ready to bash his head into his computer. Tomlin was trying his hardest to provide information that was not forth coming.

It didn't help that, even though L made sure he was provided with all the necessary equipment, no one could tell him more about what he needed to know. The question he needed answering…

"Where the hell did the guy (and he was certain it was male) find J? How did he know who he was in relation to L?"

As he read over files, Light was filled with frustration. This case was in the killers favor; the ball in his court. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to bring said ball back into the law's hands.

His mind kept going back to the hacker who L called Matt. Though he doubted that was his real name but that was neither here nor there since he'd been apprised of the fact that in this orphanage everyone used a nickname.

L had mentioned something vaguely about Matt being very good with electronics and had petitioned him to do background checks on all involved in the case. He wasn't lying. The way Matt went about the background search was a little frightening. No wonder his rival was able to find information so quickly.

Carmel eyebrows furrowed as he leaned back in his chair and thought about the encounter. Matt sat in such a way that made it easy for Light to peer over his shoulder.

He thought he would see some sort of game but what he did see startled him. Now he knew the latest version of the console had internet connection but the manner in which the red head used it was astounding.

The screen of the game displayed window after window of files, transactions by law enforcement, credit card info of seemingly random individuals, and ( Light's eyes widened) government security coded case work. He pushed throughout all this data at an alarming speed, selecting appropriate links and pulling up files and logging out before anyone could be the wiser.

Then he watched as the smoker pulled out a cheap mobile phone with a sliding keyboard and connected the two devices, using the mobile as he would a separate computer key board. The speed he went through the files increased and left Light's head spinning as he walked back up to his room.

As he sat there now looking at his own computer he studied the London Strangler files. This case had officially turned into a missing person hunt. Though Light had believed the fourth to still be alive he had a feeling that time was about to come to a halt.

When he was younger his father accused him of having a strong 6th sense. L would call it incredible deduction skill. He called it a hunch and what a terrible thing it was that he was usually right.

The very thought of L having a son finally sank into his skull motivating him to work even harder. If he ever got the chance, he definitely wanted to meet the young man because his father was such a puzzle himself.

His eyes glanced over at a very different picture of J. It was an older one that L had presented to him not too long after their dinner the night before. They had spoken about many things, revealed the way their world's worked at present as opposed to years before.

If there was one thing that Light could glean from his friend, it was apparent he was crazy about his boy. J, Light thought, must've been L's world. There was obviously no mother in the picture and the man didn't speak of her.

That was another thing. Even though the reclusive man had provided him with everything to find this 'J' along with the strangler, he made only few attempts at socializing.

Again Light was hit with a feeling of sadness. The L he'd come to know was quite vocal, always spitting percentages and irritating logic that you had no choice but to agree with. He wasn't doing that now and the young man had to wonder if he'd act the same way if his niece was kidnapped.

When Sayu had left her husband they had come to stay with him for a while and he'd grown attached to the little girl. His eyes roamed the picture as he thought of the night before.

"_What's this?"Light leaned forward and clutched the edge of a Polaroid with tanned fingers._

"_J. He was 13 at the time it was taken." L said with fondness._

_He examined the picture and smiled. "You're in this as well. I thought you didn't take pictures, L"_

_The detective shrugged. "They never leave the house… or my room for that matter. And yes, I've fallen into the same trap as other parent's, well according to Quillish I did. Apparently I have a habit of keeping photos."_

"_Uh-huh. And how did J get you in this picture?"_

_L opened his mouth to reply and paused, tilting his head to the side with a look of mild shock. Slowly it turned into a smile, one that Light had never seen on him before and it was brilliant. _

_The brunette chuckled. "You know something, Light? He did nothing because I wanted to be in it with him."_

_Light smiled back the detective._

As he held the picture now, he resolved himself.

"I will find you." He declared in the silence of the room. "I will bring you back."His hand flew over the keys and he began to write a whole new sheet of data. He felt once they found the last victim, hopefully alive… no, he would be alive, they would figure out who the murderer was. But time was growing short and that horrible hunch, that growing tumor of apprehension of his seemed to settle around him like a chilled blanket.

He wrote feverishly the similarities of the victims, the increase in violence towards the individuals, and the sudden drop in the age rate. He wrote his opinions on the matter and belief that somehow the criminal was able to follow someone to Whammy House and pursue the boy. Soon he created an evidence cage.

The wires were all connected somehow and there were a few loops but they all wove together quite nicely.

He questioned L about the case and found that it was his actions that served as the catalyst to the violent actions the killer had taken. He reviewed the evidence of the shoe as well as the woman with the _L_ burned into her forehead. The perpetrator had challenged L with the shoe but called him out on the woman discovered in Whitechapel.

Something was on the verge of clicking together in Light's mind. He and Tomlin had discussed with L the possibility of an information leak but what the young detective's mind was leaning towards was something more severe.

He stood up and dug under a pile of paperwork on a nearby coffee table looking for a manila folder. Locating it his eyes dashed across the script. Watari, who he now knew to be a blond bombshell called Mello, found a camera cover and silver clasp at the scene where Lambeau was murdered. His eyes focused on the clasp and he went back to his computer and looked up the information on student, police, and service uniforms in England. It was a long shot but he was on to something.

He would take his theory to L in a moment. However there was something about the evidence cage that was tickling his brain. He added some information surrounded in parenthesis to indicate its supplemental nature.

Printing it out he drew lines to things that should connect. A couple days after Whammy died and the new Watari discovered the evidence, L was forced to quit the case due to his son being kidnapped. He went back to the folder that held Watari's report.

Tomlin said that one of his officers were patrolling the area at that time and was apprised of the fact the man was investigating the area around the L'eville pond.

Light's brain was in overdrive. Once he discovered the officer's name he contacted the police station and spoke with him.

"Sorry to bother you during your break time." He said politely.

"Oh, no problem. What can I do for you?" The man had a cheerful voice. Light was reminded of Matsuda.

"I was wondering if you could give me some information. I'm aware that you patrol the park around the L'eville pond."

"I do." The man sounded confused.

"Tomlin told me you reported seeing people investigating the area sometime after dark." He gently prodded.

"Oh yeah! None of them seemed too happy when they left but hey, not my fault."

Light acted surprised. "Why?"

"Well,' the eager man supplied, 'I had to tell the red head to park where I could see him. He didn't like that so maybe he complained. At least it sure looked like he did when the other two showed up."

Alarm bells were ringing. _Other two? If the redhead is who I think it is…_

"Other two? Could you describe them for me?" Light pleaded in his head.

"Well there was the redhead. He was a strange bird with that funny looking vest and striped undershirt. The other two I only got a brief glimpse at. One was a blond, he was strange too. Who wears that much leather, if you ask me he looked like a gang member of some kind. Anyway, the other was a young boy."

_Matsuda has a twin in this world. _"Could you describe him?"

"Who?"

Light face palmed… almost.

"The boy."

"Oh, him? I suppose he was in his mid to late teens. Dark hair and red t-shirt."

….

"Is that all?"

The man seemed to think about it, "They drove away in a red sports car. I didn't get to look at it long because one of our off duty officers saw me and started to chat."

The officer sounded a little uncertain of himself and Light could imagine him scratching his head in confusion and the detective disconnected the call.

The alarms were growing louder. He added the evidence to his growing cage of diagrams and information.

_So Matt was there with the blond who I'm assuming is Mello. The boy with them…the boy was… _Light blinked and his limbs locked, _the boy was with Watari! The killer found him because of Mello!_

A series of dull clicks tumbled into place like a lock when Light remembered the words the pathologist had supplied him with.

"_That boy was here not too long ago with the man who picked up the evidence. That is all I can tell you Mr. Yagami but know this, the man who gathered the reports from me, is a well known figure through-out the world. Especially, law enforcement."_

That was it! L had said his son had been working the case with Mello and Matt. If anyone had recognized Mello as Watari and gathered that L was working the case already, then it was easy to assume the killer discovered J only when he was in the company of the blond.

Light, though he couldn't concern himself with how, was able to narrow down a list of places that the killer could've found the boy.

He only hoped it was enough to find him soon as he jumped up and out the door with his find. That cold feeling of foreboding he had started to feel earlier was now sheeting his back in tendrils of frost.

No. He could feel it. The son of L, the most dangerous three-detectives in the world, had run out of time.

* * *

Let it never be said that J was a quitter. If someone claimed it he would cheerfully choke them.

He bided his time and was finally able to determine the schedule of the monster locking him up. It was simple really; once he was able to halfway break through the surface of drug induced bleariness he was able to concentrate his senses. He would hear when the man left and when he returned.

He left near noon time and arrive after dark in the evening qualifying him as a second shifter. He would then make something to eat, if J's nose was anything to go by, and make an appearance. He would coo and touch his hair, body, fondle his finger nails and comment on how pretty he was.

The man would especially talk about his eyes and how beautiful they were, how he could see himself reflected in perfect clarity as though they were emeralds and how they reminded him of jade when he was under the influence of that awful sedative.

Though he had people acknowledge his eyes before this man was eerily infatuated by them causing some serious concern to curl in his chest. After all, he certainly remembered the woman found in Whitechapel… minus her eyes.

Hate blistered his soul when that bastard touched him though. He'd never go as far as he did that once when J bucked his sick ass off the damn bed. Albeit that thought wasn't comforting as one might think. Because even though he didn't try it, he _talked _about it. He told J all the things he was going to do to him when it was finally time. The man said that time was near.

The raven snorted. If his time was as close as the guy believed then J was just going to have to disappoint him. Mr. Strangler was relaxing because the boy hadn't been able to get away this entire time, why would he be concerned now? He left for work and believed everything to be just as it was when he arrived home.

_Arrogant prick. Too bad for him he kidnapped the wrong damn kid._

It was a technique Uncle Mels had taught him in case something in an investigation goes horribly awry, though it didn't mean he had to like doing it. He breathed through his nose since the gag was still in place and looked at the zip wire around his wrists binding him to the bed.

Because of the drugs and pure terror on his part he hadn't realized what a sloppy job the man had done using the line. Sloppy but effective, effective enough for him to do this… _crack!_

"Umph!" J squealed out as his wrist disconnected. His eyes watered as electric sharp shocks shot down the injured arm. But the pain was necessary; he had to get out of there tonight.

Agonizingly he was able to slip the useless hand out of the wires clutches followed by the other. Immediately he used the working hand to fix his other with another squeak chasing a loud pop.

He sat up as quickly as he could becoming dizzy almost immediately. "Freakin drugs," he slurred after taking the gag out of his mouth and set to work on the bindings around his feet.

J worked briskly knowing that he could make it out the door and be well on his way home before that monster returned. But he was shaking, his hands were all over the place and tears sprang to his eyes out of frustration.

"Come on dammit!" He urged and with a final tug his feet came loose and he was standing, albeit wobbly on the hard wood floor.

Taking a deep breath he put one foot in front of the other and crumbled violently to the floor falling on his injured arm. Unfortunately the arm he used to disconnect his wrist was the same one with the festering needle that bit into his flesh.

He also noticed with chagrin that the smooth metallic taste which flooded his mouth was his own blood. No doubt his lip would have a lovely row of teeth marks.

J spit out the salted crimson as it continually welled but tried to ignore it. Laying his hands flat against the wooden tile he pushed himself up, noticing idly how he seemed to suddenly be soaked with sweat.

It ran down his temple, face and arms in rivulets as testament to his stagnation for the past… who knows how many days.

He managed to pull himself up completely with a shuddering breath and began to walk again while clutching his left arm. He studied the contents of the room as he made his way out the bedroom door. His photographic memory would save this information for later.

As he walked he observed that the bedroom was right off the kitchen which is why he'd smelled the food so clearly. His eyes stopped however when he looked at the table. He noticed his rosary on the false wood and snatched it. J hugged it to his chest as his eyes swept over everything else.

A bowl of dried latex paint sat near a curled up piece of chord. The alcryn was already heavily coated, dried and curled up innocently. To J it looked like a vicious, poisonous snake coiled and coated with his eyes. Yes, the color matched his eyes perfectly and alarmed him so much that he didn't notice the thud of a car door slam.

But once he heard the undeniable sound of footsteps walking up to the door on a wooden porch, adrenaline shot through every limb and he booked it to a small closet in the hallway leading to the leaving area his mind supplying him with the fact the fuzz had returned early.

Cursing he crouched down and hid himself among the clothes, cautious to keep everything neat through his terror. Nothing would alert the perpetrator more quickly than messed up belongings. Pale and slender fingers worried the crucifix and beads out of nervous habit as it hung around his neck.

J's heart was in his throat and felt his breathing stop when the sound of keys in the lock clicked and the door opened. But it wasn't that that scared him, it was the rosary around his neck, pointing him to the cardinal sin he'd just committed.

The trembling seventeen year old felt hot tears spill down his face.

* * *

If ever there was a time that Light needed to see that eccentric excuse for a detective it was now and he had, most inconveniently, disappeared.

He'd even asked Roger who snubbed him and said he did not know. _Lies._

In the face of that opposition he decided to rattle the closet and go looking through every room he could get to. He started on the ground floor and worked his way up, storming throughout the large manor.

The children that were out in the halls or in some of those rooms either ignored him or looked at him strangely.

It didn't matter. He was on a mission.

He looked around the second floor, flung open every single door and found nothing.

He couldn't believe he hadn't arrived at this conclusion sooner. L would definitely be happy to hear this news and then all they would have to do is trace the steps of Mello and Matt while they had been with J. But where the fuck was he?

He was halfway through the third floor… still nothing.

The wild hair and pallid complexion of the fourth victim hit him full force and Light almost felt physically winded. The tendrils of frost were beginning to turn into sheets of ice. The young detective didn't know why but as he passed the open window and noted the fading lights he felt nausea yawn open in the pit of his chest.

Fourth and final floor he searched.

He was about to give up when he noticed an adjunct, narrow hallway at the opposite end of the floor. Light threw his hands in the air and dashed down the corridor. This was the last place he could look other than on the grounds. But somehow… he knew this is where he would find him.

The small corridor had a few doors but there was one at the very end to the right. It was closed like the others but his eyes focused on the abused caution tape clinging pathetically to the doorframe. It was strange. Though he had been able to visit the previous crime scenes he had never asked to be taken to this one. Somehow it felt private almost like the feeling you get when you walk into a mausoleum.

Light closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't believe this. The crime scene for the fourth victim was just beyond as he gripped the door handle and, with eyes still closed, opened the barrier.

….

There was no detective on the other side as golden eyes took in the state of the room. It was just like it was detailed in the report.

There were pictures and all sorts of documents on the floor. Glass and ceramic material was shattered and cast around on the thick carpeted floor. Broken lamps were thrown off desks and furniture over turned. It was an utter mess.

Light shook his head. He studied the contents of the room. Books lined an entire portion of the wall and an elaborate stereo system was set up near a table beside the shelf. There was a pull out bed with covers spilled over onto the floor.

He could imagine that the boy might have been sleeping when he was attacked. Even so, Light thought, he must have put up one heck of a fight if this was the condition of his room.

As he stepped over the glass and paperwork he became aware of a small set of noises.

A lethargic tap, tap, tap.

He looked around curiously.

Tap, tap.

His eyes zeroed in on another door and deduced that was the location the noise was coming from.

He made his way forward and noticed the door was ajar. Silently he stepped through the portal.

There, next to the wall where one would expect a window to be, was the detective Light had been looking for. The sight was pitiful as he witnessed the famous man rearranging a chess set. The tap, tap noise resounded throughout the smaller, less chaotic room when L placed the pieces around the board.

Softly he made his way to the detective and sat in the chair opposite him in front of the chess board. The man had never looked more haggard or withdrawn. After a few more moves of the tiny pieces, L's hand rested on the king and his fingers stroked the black veneer.

"I bought this for him when he turned thirteen,' he stated softly in such a casual manner. 'His eyes were so bright, I thought… surely this is what it's like to see true happiness; to _experience _his joy is my greatest achievement."

It was quiet for a beat as gold eyes watched. L snorted and smiled derisively.

"If I'd only known…," a pale hand laid the king face down and perched on a drawn up knee, "No, even if I'd known it wouldn't make a difference. I wouldn't change a thing."

"L," Light said softly drawing the dark orbs up to meet his own light ones.

"You feel it, Light-kun," L muttered softly as he looked back down at the chess pieces, "time has run out."

**A/N: Whew, that was a long chapter. For those who do not know what Gyoza is, it is the Japanese equivalent of potstickers and are filled with pork, beef, and or veggies. If you've never had it, I suggest you try it. It is delish!**

**Anyways, thanks for all those who reviewed. You are all awarded cool points! **

**Blacknightjoker: **_I hope the back story was to your liking._

**Fish XD: **_First off, I love your moniker, second. I am sorry it took so long but hopefully it was worth the wait. I will try to update more quickly._

**Angel of 513:**_ I am so happy you love J and my story. That makes me feel all warm because he's an OC. *gives brownies*_

**Shattered Knight: **_XD Thanks so much for the picture! You are so amazing! Thanks for sticking with my story despite the faults in it. *cookies to you*_

**xallfalldownx : **_Yes, addiction is sweet, neh?_

**mudkiprox: **_Thanks for reviewing, I hope this answered some of your questions about the Kira case._

**_LYnM: _**_You speak like an lolcat which makes me love you. But I understand this frustration about it taking so long for Light to figure L was behind it all. Keep in mind that they have not spoken or have seen each other in years. So at the time, L was the furthest thing from Light's mind. _

**LYnm also brought forth the question, as well as my wonderful Beta Fullmoons-Wings, about the prospect of this becoming an LxLight fiction. What are your thoughts on this? Would you like to see some subtle LxL action or would you prefer it remain a strong friendship?**

**Now... Love it, Hate it, tell me all about it by pressing the button (especially all you wonderful people who have favorited and story alerted this fic).**

**REVIEW!**


	9. Chapter 8 pt1: Gone Baby, Gone

_**A/N: Hello everyone. I apologize for the long wait. Here is part one of Chapter 8. At present it is unbeta'd and I apologize for any mistakes you might see. **_

_**Warning: Emotional L and a horrible cliff hanger.**_

_**I'd like to dedicate this chapter to anyone who has lost a loved one much like I did this past year. But, all that I feel was transferred to L and he will portray some of my sadness for me.**_

_**I appreciate your patience and loved your reviews. **_

_**So, without further ado, here you go!**_

* * *

Chapter 8 part One.

Everything seemed to slow to an unending pace. It was strange, L thought. First there was this extended period of time where time seemed to move at the speed of light. Everything was rushed. The trail had been spread, the map drawn and the moment those doors opened…

All Hell had broken loose.

He could still feel the last vestiges of adrenaline leave his system. The muscles that had pumped incessantly beneath his skin were cramped and quieting. His eyes looked before him and in a vague moment of sanity he wondered how it was he couldn't hear.

Everything was just so slow it made no sound. Flashes of police lights, people, and concrete blurred from one indiscernible mass to the next and L couldn't tell whether or not if it was the rain or his own eyes hindering his view. But, he was inside and it just can't rain on the inside of a building. Could it?

What was surely meant to be a sharp pain sent a numb shock up his arched back and into his skull from where his knees hit the paint spattered floor. The dull throb echoing throughout his body brought his attention to something he could hear; it was a strangled thump-thump sound.

_My heart?_

But that was impossible wasn't it? After all, his heart lay in front of him where it had waited diligently, helplessly for him to retrieve it. It had waited and he never came… he never….

_Earlier…_

The final countdown started.

Mello and Matt sat in the little room with Light and L as the Japanese detective recanted his theory. Their minds were already whirring and jumping from one complex thought to another.

L tried not to hope but it seemed that fate had other plans because with every word that preceded out of Light's mouth some piece of his sanity tried desperately to anchor itself.

His knuckles whitened as he digested the information and squeezed the top of his bony knees.

The raven man popped up and began to rummage through the next room until he returned with paper and pens. He pushed them at Matt and Mello who immediately began writing down the list of places they had been, who had been there and what they remembered seeing.

"Make copies of those Mello and then send the information to Tomlin," L ordered. The authority in his voice was unmistakable. Though he was in pain, he was finally back in his own element.

The blond nodded and began to consult with his partner.

As for L he walked right back out of the room and into the next. He couldn't sit still now and the thought that he had been sitting at all, though completely illogical, angered him. His own son was out there somewhere possibly being strangled and he'd been forced to sit stationary on the sidelines.

He gazed out the window of J's bedroom across the yard. Night had definitely fallen as stars twinkled mockingly through specks of cloud cover. The moon was incredibly bright as well as it shone all the House grounds in dim brilliance.

"Tsuki." He muttered.

"Indeed."

Turning to see Light behind him, observing him through soft auburn bangs with his head tilted slightly to the side, the only thing he could feel at the moment was appreciation. Other than the rampaging thoughts of finding J, he looked at his rival with a new sense of admiration. He could see why he had been blinded before from simple logical thought.

He simply lost the ability to think straight when his only child went missing.

No one would blame him for not seeing this sooner. But _he _would blame himself. He did blame himself no matter if they found J alive and well, he would never be able to forgive his own actions for letting the boy leave his sight in the first place.

His grey eyes widened as he began to think of how he could have stopped all this, if he had just denied Mello's request and dealt with everything himself. He had done it before; working under such stressful conditions was nothing new to him… except now. Now it wasn't his life on the line and if it had been that would have been much more easily dealt with than this.

His eyes began to burn but he couldn't seem to turn away from the suddenly concerned face in front of him. Even though things were different between them than what they once used to be, L did not relish crying in front of the other man. He wouldn't either. If he could save any face at all he tried to do so by not crying.

The drawback was that he started to tremble.

Hands made their way to his shoulders and still he couldn't stop shaking. He was tired and wanted more than anything to see J's face in front of him instead of Light's.

He wanted to see the unruly jet black locks framing a similar pale face. He wanted to touch him, to look him in the eyes that were sharp and beautiful like his mothers and tell him all the things he wanted to know about her. All the questions he refused to answer because he didn't want to think about her.

"L?" Light's voice resounded through his head effectively ceasing all thoughts. And he just looked at him this time without shaking.

He noticed that Mello and Matt were also standing a little behind the man holding his shoulders with the papers in their hands watching him.

Grey eyes slid to the floor and he muttered an apology.

A look from Light had the other two leaving to do their job while he spoke to L privately.

"You don't have to apologize. You're his father; of course you would be distressed."

"But why, Light? I have never felt so… so, disengaged. My brain couldn't process all the things you pointed out. You know it's within me to have come to that conclusion and because I didn't J could already be dispensed."

Light's eyes widened. He had never witnessed the look L was exposing now.

It was entirely open, well, more open than he'd ever seen and the forlorn image would forever burn into his memory.

He studied the man before him. If there was one thing he could ever be unsettled by, it was the look in those downcast owlish eyes. Fear… it was calculated fear.

The reason he was scared was obvious. The man had no idea if the next call that came would confirm his anxiety and the calculation reflected in his eyes was purely L. A mechanism that he couldn't turn off even if he wanted to allowed him to be constantly aware of the chances of that call being exactly his worst fears.

"We'll find him, L," Light stated as he removed his hand from the thin shoulders.

L's entire demeanor changed at those words and his forlorn expression morphed in to a stony edifice. The grey orbs turned steely.

"I have no doubt of that, Light-kun. But it's how we find him that will determine what happens to the culprit after he's caught."

Light backed up. He knew this expression, knew it incredibly well and though he had not seen it in years the effect on him was instant. The room seemed to drop in temperature and it took all his will power not to shiver. He had once been on the end of such a piercing gaze and was entirely happy that it was not directed at him now.

L marched out the door with his game face on.

* * *

L sat in front of a large TV with a cup of tea in his steady hand. Surrounding the TV were several monitors and every one of them was a play by play view of the streets near and around the areas the victims were dumped.

The actual area of their disposal was not camera secured but L would not be deterred. The killer/kidnapper would have to show his face at some point on the adjacent streets leading up to those places.

It was rather incredible that the perpetrator had enough mind to avoid such trivial nuisances.

His eyes slid over every piece of pixilated imagery. He noted the people and if they ever came by repeatedly. Most he would assume were on their morning commute. He looked for the same thing in vehicles and nothing suspicious. He did make a note of the passerby's who walked the road and sent the information to Tomlin.

Tomlin in the mean time was sending officers to investigate the surrounding areas where the victims had been found. The man power was so stretched that civilians volunteered to help.

They went door to door with a flyer in hand featuring the face of the missing boy. People passed out the fliers on the streets while news anchors in filming rooms brought the missing boy to public attention.

When Roger had come up to L earlier after having seen the missing person report on the news, he'd asked L if he believed that to be a wise decision. After all, L was not one for transparency into personal matters.

"I'm sick of being quiet Roger. J is out there, probably dead or dying, the last thing I am concerned about is whether or not the public will tie this back to me." L replied in a clipped manner.

Next to him was Light going through all the paperwork and giving orders to Tomlin in L's place. He glanced over at the detective when he heard him, frowning.

L was not taking any more chances and he was happy for this. Too much had been left to chance and luck. Light was not a believer in luck but he did believe in determination.

And he fully agreed with L that enough was enough.

The list that Matt and Mello had composed was a great help. Those two were real geniuses and between Mello's ability to discern a single face from thousands and Matt's ability to get the feel of where everyone had been standing during their times together was amazing.

He studied the paperwork they gave him and noted they had made just a few stops. At one point they had stopped for petrol and according to Matt that was the highest concentration of people.

Then they had visited the city morgue where Mello retrieved the information concerning Mr. Lambeau. Mello had told both he and Tomlin that besides the receptionist and Forensic analyst, there had been two police officers in the area; one when they had walked in and another when they had left.

Then they traveled to the park where Lambeau was found and searched the area for clues. The blond indicated the clasp and camera lens they had located but there was no hint of where the metal piece came from and no immediate sign of a camera. They had found some disturbed ground where the assailant must have stationed himself.

Matt told about the cop making him aware of the parking. He also noted that he was there with a man chatting at his patrol car window. Mello shrugged as he'd been too consumed with thoughts about Whammy's passing at the time in order to notice the other man.

Light immediately recognized this as the man who must have been the off duty officer the other policeman had been referring to.

As the day progressed and L was no closer to a breakthrough with the monitors, the loud blond walked in the room to talk to Light.

L had no clue he was there until his voice broke the surface of his concentration.

"Nothing yet?"

The detective shook his head. Mello was quiet for a moment.

"The hell… Do police always patrol that area?"

Large round eyes questioned the younger man as he leaned forward to stare at the monitors.

"I imagine so. Tomlin said this was a police route. It makes sense since the victims are usually found immediately."

Light sighed, flustered. "I feel like we need just one more thing. One more thing that could connect the dots."

The room was silent.

"Light?"

"Huh?"

"I think we've found that 'one more thing.''' Mello said softly.

Both L and Light snapped their necks nearly to stare at the hard eyed man as he leaned forward and adjusted all the footage to stop in certain areas.

As he did this Matt walked in and his cigarette almost fell from his lips. Quickly holding the stick between two fingers, he approached the monitors to stand beside Mello.

"Of course,' Matt stated, 'that's it."

"What's it?" Light questioned.

"The patrol car number is the same in every piece of footage. Meaning that…" L quieted and looked to his friend with only his eyes betraying his anger. The rest of the detective seemed to be spun like a tight coil; he was seething.

"The London Strangler is an officer of the law." Light's voice was almost dead as he looked at the computer desk where the picture of L and J sat.

He whipped around and immediately called Chief Tomlin.

L looked at the grainy pictures and nibbled on his thumb. He felt his heart speeding through his chest and looked onward at the man reflected in the windshield of his patrol car.

_He's an officer. A man who works within the force; one who could easily find out that I was handling this case and was able to be present at all crime scenes without suspicion. With adequate training from Scotland Yard he was able to tail Matt, Mello and J back to Whammy's. _

_He would be able to scout the location and understand the importance of security. He avoided the play areas and common areas and therefore did not get his picture taken. He must've followed J to his room without his notice. No, no… he must've followed Roger when he brought him his lunch._

_The finger prints are probably planted. No officer could actually hide his finger prints but due to his expertise in the alcryn chord he could easily make false prints out of a thin rubber._

…

"Shit."

L looked up at Mello.

The man was pointing at the pictures. Light told Tomlin to hold on while he too looked curiously at the man who looked as though he was growing angrier by the second.

"He was the officer who greeted J and I at the door in the city morgue!"

"What?"

"It's him and I ran into him again when the Gallagher boy went missing. He was at the station and he looked dead at me!" Mello was getting worked up and finally grabbed the phone from Light and yelled at the Chief.

"It's the bastard who brought in Billy Gallagher's parents! He drives patrol car 2205. Find us his name and address pronto chief. –_pause-_ What? Do you mind repeating that?"

L, Light and Matt were standing around the suddenly quiet blond. He looked directly at L.

The detective felt his insides beginning to constrict as Mello 'hmm'd' into the mouth piece never breaking eye contact.

"We'll be right there. Thank you." Mello slammed the phone shut and started out the door.

The other three men had no choice but to follow.

* * *

The moment those words met the Chiefs ears he booked it to the squad room. He grabbed one of his officers and explained the situation and together they walked casually into the room and to the desk located near the far back.

It was nearly 1:30 and the officer that Mello had referred to should have been on duty at this point.

When they made it to the squad room the Chief noticed the officer was not there. He pointed to the bathroom for the other officer to check and when the man came back and shook his head Tomlin felt a twinge of unease building.

He walked to the front desk.

"Monica, has Puttock come in?"

She shook her head. "No Chief. As a matter of fact Villarreal, from second shift, reported he left early last evening to take care of some personal business."

Tomlin bristled and immediately picked up the reception phone and resumed his call with Mello.

"He's not here. He was supposed to work this shift and he is not here."

Tomlin slammed the phone down and looked at the officer who had been with him.

"Call Gregor and go to Puttock's house. Take another patrol for standby… what are you waiting for, GO!"

The officer dashed off and Tomlin massaged the bridge of his nose as he contemplated the situation at hand.

If he didn't get to Puttock and the boy before something terrible happened he would never work with L again. Not so much because L would have him disbanded from the force but because he would feel responsible.

Sighing heavily he went back to Puttock's workstation while he waited for Mello to get there.

He sat in the chair and looked around the desk belonging to the former officer. It was neat but not overtly so and all paperwork was in the proper in and out bins.

He went through the drawers and found them to be in the same organized state. He was about to close another drawer when something caught his eye. It was the corner of a scrap of paper.

The gruff officer looked at it curiously before picking it out beneath a stack of post-its. His eyes widened because it wasn't just a scrap of paper. It was envelope with the letter L scrawled across it.

He carefully opened the package to examine the contents and pulled out a small jump drive.

Tomlin dashed to his office and plugged in the drive to the USB port of his computer. After a few clicks he was apprised of the contents of the folders.

Shaking hands pulled a trash bin closer to the pallid faced Chief of police, ready to catch the upset contents of his stomach.

Files full of videos and pictures leered at him from the glowing screen beginning with the very first victims 11, nearly 12 years ago. A man who worked closely to the Chief and his other officer's were responsible for the heinous crimes of the London Strangler and by the indication of these files, the man was fully expecting someone to find out.

Only minutes later did Mello finally show up.

….

The haphazard team looked upon the files with the same distaste as Tomlin.

L clicked throughout all the documents and videos. It would seem the camera lens found at the park belonged to the current camera that was recording the scene at the L'evelle Pond.

Mello watched most disturbed as he saw himself rushing around the crime scene talking to this one and that dressed as Watari. Then the video abruptly changed from a point on top of the hill during the day to one at night, same place only the camera was situated further down the way near the last of the trees.

That didn't deter the sound quality though.

The hand held device was being directed by the assailant who zoomed closely on the figures walking around in the dark.

"Oh, God." The blond made the cross and held his hand to his lips as Light witnessed the first moving and breathing version of J.

L looked upon the video with such a blank expression but his starving eyes ate every moment of film.

He reached a pallid hand forward and turned up the volume. A young and vibrant voice filtered through the speakers. The voice belonged to someone who was very much alive and full of intellect.

Light observed the young boy and Mello investigating. He had to admit even through the dark events unfolding it was obvious the seventeen year old was of a higher intellectual caliber than most men.

"L, how high is J's IQ?" Light asked curiously.

"His IQ falls in the 99th percentile. I believe it is 190." L replied and made to reach toward the computer screen before he stopped and placed his thumb back to his lips.

No one missed the movement.

L continued to open file after file and all the following were those focused on the boys bearing similar traits to J.

Light's eyes flashed in anger when he witnessed the death of the Gallagher boy. The camera had been positioned near the entrance of the alley and was meant to give an extended view down the passage as the killer moved in.

He smiled when Billy slammed himself at the man and stood up to run which brought him closer to the camera. Unfortunately he wasn't fast enough and the sickening crack of his neck made him turn his head away in disgust.

Light's hand which rested on the back of the chair L was seated in started to vibrate beneath his finger tips and his eyes looked up to find L looking at another video.

It was sitting at the corner of the doorway to a room they were all too familiar with. They watched Puttock enter the room and, like Light had suspected, the boy had been laying down.

Light slowly found his arms rubbing soothingly up and down the detective's shoulders as the fight started.

Puttock was aiming to knock J out completely before he woke up but instead found himself hard up as the teen moved at the last second.

"That brat knew he was there,' Mello snorted.

Light had never seen such a fight before. Most would throw punches here and there or a kick or two but these individuals on screen were obviously versed in proper techniques. It was incredibly violent and with every powerful blow it was a wonder that Puttock could still stand.

The room was being decimated and before long J was getting his own ass kicked. He landed a kick and stumbled to the wall calling out for help. He barely dodged the lamp thrown at him and bounced back at the man throwing frantic punches.

Puttock was able to dodge several and it was obvious J was starting to lose. In a last ditch attempt he found an opening and ran. He made it to the wall closest to the door and pulled the fire alarm.

"He was trying to alert the police. That alarm is immediately rigged to the fire department that has to contact the station." Mello said somberly. "He was trying to bring us back."

It was at that time that they heard a cell phone also ringing. No doubt that was L trying to call at that time and he was not speaking at all during this play by play.

Tan hands wrapped around the detective completely and L held on urgently. The feeling ran up Light's skin and the desire to comfort the raven haired man grew. He felt entirely helpless.

Puttock fell one last time and pulled a cloth out of his pocket. The look on his face was more than angry as he jumped up to chase J.

Tomlin winced as Puttock grabbed a thick chunk of the boy's hair and wrenched his head backwards and bodily slammed him to the debris covered ground. J shrieked in pain and L's grip on Light's encompassing arms grew painfully tight.

Puttock brushed back his dirty blond hair and straddled the struggling boy, pressing the cloth to his nose and mouth. Chloroform seeped into J's respiration, his body visibly slackened and the quiet of the office was broken by the whispers of Puttock.

"_You were much tougher to take down than I thought. But I finally nailed you, you little shit."_

The camera cut off and suddenly the picture was in a car. Puttock was looking into the camera himself. He had a few blooming bruises on his tan face and his hair stuck to his face in sweat.

"_You know L, you must be the world's greatest dumbass. I mean look at you! It took one person for you to finally find out it was me all these years. What does that say huh?_

"_All those other shits weren't important enough but you lose some little bastard child and now you know who I am? FUCK YOU! Do you know what you are? You're a piece of shit detective who thinks he can sit on a high horse above the rest of the world. Do you even notice the bull that goes on around you?_

"_Do you even understand? The world works through those who are deigned beautiful and smart. Those people in the past have only one good feature but the entire portrait has to work or society just can't accept them. So I fix the problem."_

The camera shifted and suddenly they were viewing both his wickedly smiling face next to the unconscious body of J.

"_But you know what, L? I'm on top of the world now, aren't I? Your little boy here is an example of perfection wouldn't you say? I mean those eyes, this skin and all these tendrils of hair go perfectly together don't they?" _Puttock tapered off into a whisper as he caressed the teen almost worshipfully.

Light heard L grind out, "Get your filthy hands off him."

The detective was no longer holding a blank face, he was furious.

Cop cars sounded on the film.

"_But, back to you being a dumbass, how's this for proof? _The camera zoomed in from the far back and peered through foliage to witness L running from Matt's car into the house.

"That rat bastard!" Mello yelled in frustration also seeing him running up the steps.

"_It is a shame though that in order for you to finally acknowledge the truth, the physical whims of the world being the most important subject of the times, I have to erase something truly beautiful from this world."_

The camera panned back to J laid down in the back seat.

"_Take a good long look, L. He could have really been something. And he still will be. You know what he will be, L? Your boy will be a statistic. One beautiful tragedy in the great list of memorable deaths for a serial killer. Yes, he will be my greatest achievement. _

"_Kira didn't win against you because he didn't have the right pieces. I do and it will bring you off your screwed up pedestal once and for all. Have a nice day L, I know I will."_

At the last statement Puttock raised his eyebrows suggestively and made a lewd hand gesture towards the sleeping boy. The film stopped and the jump drive went back to the start of the files.

Light stood up completely and looked at the others in the room. He jumped along with everyone else when L slammed his fists down on the desk causing everything to shake.

The Japanese man knelt next to the bunched up figure in the chair.

His hands were clawing at his knees and his face was scrunched up with his eyes completely closed.

L wanted to strangle something! He wanted Puttock right in front of him now so he could return the favor for all those he killed. He could feel his heart beating rapidly and wondered why he was no closer to J than five minutes ago.

He vaguely heard Light calling out for him but he just shook his head violently.

"I can't Light. I can't… that couldn't be the last time I'll see him alive."

He looked up at Light imploringly and the detective felt his heart cracking as the man continued.

"We'll get him back, L."

"I can't be sure any more! Did you know the last time I spoke to him we were arguing? Can you guess over what? HIM going with ME to the crime scene of Billy Gallagher TOGETHER."

L grabbed the front of Light's dress shirt desperately, his actions pleading for the other man to understand.

"L! You can't blame yourself. You had no way of knowing," Light returned the grip trying to comfort his increasingly frantic friend.

He had never seen L like this. So helpless and distraught; it didn't fit the man he knew and Light had the fleeting thought that Puttock could be right. If this ended badly for J then L would be floored for good.

"But it is Light, it is! He read me like a blasted book and anticipated me not taking him. He knew I'd be too scared to let him out of the house, that's why he could give me my own address in the stupid poetry book when we saw the last boy. My own damn address!

"He knew, Light! Look at the video!' Light's breath caught, hypnotized by the wild eyes in front of him. He was sure no one had ever witnessed the event unfolding before him as tears finally started trickling from those beautiful grey orbs.

"I was there and I didn't even see him. Why couldn't I have seen him, Light? Why? He was there! My boy was still there!" Steady rivulets poured down L's face and his voice cracked completely.

The auburn haired man wrapped his arms around the strongest man he ever knew and listened to the culmination of complete despair L had held back this entire time.

His neck felt wet as the man buried his face in the juncture.

"He has my boy, Light,' L sobbed into his shoulder, 'He has my J."

Tomlin couldn't stand the sight any longer. The weight was heavy on his chest and despite what anyone ever said, seeing a parent cry over their lost child never got easier.

The moment he stepped outside his office, Monica, the front desk worker was running to him.

"Chief! Miller and Gregor are at Puttock's house."

Tomlin looked at her intently.

"They said he wasn't there but you are requested to come right away."

* * *

The quiet neighborhood had never witnessed such a scene.

There had to be dozens of squad cars parked at the house of the officer who lived down the street; all had their lights going and uniformed policemen were running in and out of the abode.

A bright, candy apple red 1970 Chevelle SS, pulled in with a screeching halt and four men jumped out.

Officer Miller greeted the men and the Chief.

"There is no one inside."

"Did you find anything at all?"

Miller watched as L stepped up to him and voiced the question.

"Yes. There is a small basement full of paraphernalia and trophy pictures as well as some graffiti; plus there is some equipment and paint. Other than that, the place is a complete mess."

At those words L shoved his way inside the building. J may not be inside but he was certain to find evidence of where he had gone.

Stepping just inside he could already see what the officer meant when he said the place was a mess. Portraits and other items were strewn across the floor. Near the hallway he could see a closet door hanging on barely-there hinges while piles of clothes and other stored supplies were scattered.

He thought that was curious.

Light followed L's eye movement to the door and wondered briefly what had occurred. There was an obvious struggle and the auburn haired detective pondered if it could be J's doing. If it was then the boy put up a pretty good fight once again.

As he began to walk through the living area he felt a crunch under his shoes and looked down to see shattered glass. Perplexed he looked for the source until his brown eyes landed on a wood frame coffee table. The center piece had been made of glass at one time until something or someone landed on it.

He walked through and met L in the kitchen area where the detective was examining things with a latex glove hand. In a two finger grip he picked items off the table and scrutinized them all.

"What is it?"

L scrunched his nose up. "Latex paint. The same he used to coat the alcryn chord. Look at all the table." He waved his hand over the objects.

"There's no chord with the color in the bowl." Light murmured.

"So what does that mean?"

"He either didn't have the time to use it or took it with him."

At that moment Tomlin walked in.

"You don't think there's a chance that he got away do you?"

L was silent so Light answered while his eyes looked back down the small hallway into the living area.

"To put it bluntly, no. However, I think he almost achieved it."

"How?" The Chief was wide eyed.

Light indicated the mess they walked in on.

"I got to see the officer's desk and it was very neat and orderly. This would not be the manner in which he would keep things so my educated guess is that J was able to escape… nearly."

L and Tomlin followed Light as he observed everything. L did the same thing as he tried to piece together an order of events. Somehow he was very calm. Unlike at the station when he had his fit he was able to knock his brain into overdrive and focus on the events at hand with incredible precision.

That didn't mean he was happy about the way events were unfolding in front of him.

Mello and Matt were standing together and it seemed all movement in the house ceased as Light began to speak. Miller and his fellow officers watched in wonder as the foreigner walked from one point to another, his eyes never leaving the ground.

"Have you guessed where the boy might have been kept?" He voiced to Miller.

The man nodded. "Yes. We found some warped zip wire around the bed in his room as well as some mild sedatives and syringes on the bedside table."

Out of the corner of his eye Light watched L wince and hunch even more.

"All right,' Light walked from the closed bedroom door over to the middle of the small hallway. He moved accordingly with his story.

"Assuming J was responsible for the pieces of zip wire and was able to free himself, he must have made it out to this point or a little further. From what his father has told me and his intellectual level, I would say he had enough of a mind to attempt his little escape at a time when he believed Puttock to be gone."

"How would he know when Puttock worked?" One officer asked.

"You're thinking of the sedatives aren't you? That is simple to explain. Puttock must have grown used to the fact the boy couldn't leave. He's had him all this time and we can only assume nothing had happened that would make him second guess his thought process. I would wager the boy hadn't been highly dosed when he made the attempt. If at some point he was able to think clearly, he might have been able to deduce when he worked.

"So he escapes to the middle of the hallway but stops." Light looked at the door.

"The door must have been opened as usual and the squad car was parked carefully so he probably has no idea that the boy was loose. He came home early,' Light's brows furrowed as all eyes watched him, 'J did not expect him to be here so soon."

He looked at L and at the other officers. Suddenly he whipped around and dove into the closet pretending to close the door.

"He must have hid in here when Puttock entered the house. He would have nowhere else to go. He… he must have sat down like this, which would explain why the clothes from the hooks and the object are thrown all over the place. Puttock found him somehow and attempted to extract him from the closet."

Suddenly Light jumped out of the closet startling some of the nearby officers.

"He either forced Puttock back or he was wrenched out of the closet but either way they wound up in the living room. They struggled pretty fiercely and one of them was thrown against the coffee table. The glass shattered and pieces flew everywhere."

He stopped as he looked at the coffee table. He bent down and followed something with his eyes. They grew as he quickly sped over to an overturned plant pot and extracted something from beneath with a tissue from his pocket.

"The person who fell on the coffee table grabbed a remnant of the glass. I can say I believe it was Puttock because this was meant to stop one person from running."

A long shard of glass covered in bits of dirt and blood glinted in the room from Light's hand.

"How do you know the boy didn't use it?"

"If you were thrown into the table and wanted to stop someone who was very near the exit, you would use this to more than likely swipe at their legs. You would effectively stop someone who was drugged and barely able to balance in the first place."

"But there would be a blood trail if it was that serious." One man voiced but Light and L were way ahead of the question. They began throwing the clothes and other objects out of the way. L stopped abruptly and sat up, his eyes large and blank. The last coat he moved had a very large blot of drying blood beneath it and other objects revealed smudges and streaks of brownish red.

L's large eyes followed an especially wicked and rapidly growing streak of blood to the bedroom door. The liquid in some places was still wet and crimson and the pattern was consistent with someone being dragged.

He stood shakily and walked up to the closed door.

"Why was this door closed?" He mumbled softly.

Miller answered. "We didn't want contamination because the photos haven't been taken yet. There's a lot to photograph especially with all the graffiti."

L was quiet for a moment.

"Well open the door. We need to see inside." The auburn haired detective stood next to the other.

A pale hand pointed at a place on the door frame. "I'm afraid to Light."

The words were so soft and said to where only Light could hear him. When he saw what L indicated he felt a sharp stab in his heart. That incredibly bad feeling he'd had since the night before died and turned into one of dread, because there on the door frame was the dried, bloody evidence that someone had tried desperately to hold on before being dragged inside.

* * *

_**A/N: Review and tell me what you think? Good, Bad, Ugly?**_

_**If you believe that L was too OOC please keep in mind I am using artistic license and I understand this is not how he may truly act over the situation.**_

_**Love and stuff!**_


End file.
